Of Nightmares&Guardians-How a hero became Pitch & a priest the Sandman
by Kate-No Stranger to Sarcasm
Summary: Redraft of Pitch Black's origin, once Kozmotis Pitchiner, & the Sandman, once priest of the Oneiroi; loosely based on the books, but taking place on earth. Instead of somewhere in space, welcome to the Golden Age of Atlantis. Will also include the origin of both the Man in the Moon and Nightlight. Featuring Emily Jane(Mother Nature), Lady Pitchiner and Ombric Shalazar. Read
1. The Shadow arrives

**Author's Note/Commentary:**

Welcome and thank you for reading my version of the Guardian's and Pitch's past, which will only take place on earth. Why? Well if you know or have heard about the books, you know that several characters, including Sandy, Pitch, even Bunny come from space. Not that I don't like Science Fiction or that setting in general, far from it, but if you're telling me the book's version of Pitch Black has extinguished suns, devastated planets, the bogeyman hiding under beds and fighting with the Guardians over the believe of children feels just too scaled down in both power and stakes. Also they are characters of fairytales and folklore, space just puts their world too far away from ours, in my opinion.

I haven't read any of the books, the movie has just made me curious, so I've read articles on the Rise of the Guardians wiki, since I want to base this story on what William Joyce wrote, however loosely. I'll be keeping things I deem important to the character (and know about), but of course add and change a lot.

This is not intended to be a rewrite, this is writing for fun and practice, as I'm not a native English speaker, a version to hopefully fit the movie as well. I'll explain some changes at the end of every chapter, and if questions come up, keep in mind that some might get answered throughout the story. Not wanting to keep you any longer, I hope you'll enjoy, and follow this first of four origin stories.

* * *

**Of Nightmares and Guardians**

**How a hero became Pitch, and a priest the Sandman**

**Chapter I**

It was truly a beautiful day; blue sky, the warm sun and just a few white clouds, driven by a fresh and cool wind. On the deep blue ocean three great ships sailed north-east, in their style similar to the trireme used by the ancient Greeks, though they were just coming up on the world stage, as well as the Phoenicians and later the romans; but Atlantians had always been one or two steps ahead, maybe more. A man in dark leather armor stood at the first's railing, actually leaning over it, securing himself by holding on to a rope, his short night black hair thrown back by the wind, as he was clearly enjoying the ride and how it threw the ocean water into his face. The strong wind gave them unprecedented velocity.

A voice called for him. "Captain, we're approaching the fleet." Of course they did; he'd already spotted nine silhouettes in the distance. "Lord Pitch, please don't mind me saying, but I believe the Lord High General would appreciate it if you were properly dressed."

"We still have a few minutes." He said, half to himself, before turning to his second in command. "Besides, if the reports are true a cloak is the least of my worries…and since when are we no longer on a first name basis?"

"As long as we are on this mission. I'm just making sure everyone remembers who is truly in charge, seeing as these are my family's vessels." The other man was as old as Kozmotis, and wore similar armor with a blue cloak, but he had short brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard framing his face. "About the reports, I'm certain they are merely the stories of sailors, blown out of proportions."

"We'll find out soon enough." Pitchiner looked over to his men. Except for sailors, most of them were archers and swordsmen; spears were no good in such tight environment. For a similar reason all men wore armor made of leather, as metal would drag them down too fast should they ever fall into the water, and gave them less mobility. Besides, what metal the island kingdom had, was more valuable as weapons. Kozmotis put on his own cloak, a deep red, signifying his status along with fine golden lines along the chest and lower arm guards of his armor. "No one so far has been foolish enough to challenge Atlantis in her own seas, Lykos. Knowing the High General, he will want to set an example; otherwise he wouldn't have sent for so many ships for just a few pirates." There was this tone in his voice, and Lykos knew how much his Captain disdained the High Generals brutal methods.

"Maybe they are just a few Mediterranean pirates gone off course?"

Kozmotis shook his head. "I doubt they would drift this far into the ocean." The other ships were now close, close enough for them to see the men onboard. On the most luxurious' red sail was a yellow sigil painted on, an animal's head. "Let's see what the lion has planned for us."

…

Kozmotis and Lykos were the last to arrive on the High General's ship. Captain Nereus Scorpio, Lord of the Seas Amyntas Leo, and their highest officers were already waiting for them. First was dressed just like Pitchiner, though his face was burly by comparison, his black hair longer and curly, while their superior was a large man, yet far from looking sluggish, already showing the first signs of his age, his hair becoming silver along the side of his head. His armor was reinforced with a few steel plates, and showed the colors of his house, a privilege of his rank, light red and gold, while a heavily ornamented scimitar rested at his side, the hilt ending in a lion's head. As it was customary, Kozmotis and Lykos briefly bowed respectfully.

"Lord Captain Pitchiner, we have been expecting you." Amyntas spoke, his voice deep and booming. "The enemy is supposed to arrive within the hour." Since ruling over an island kingdom, Atlantians used birds, mostly pigeons or even hawks sometimes, to transport messages between their islands or ships; outpost and scouting vessels, had kept the General informed about the enemy's movements over the last days, and had made it possible to meet here in the middle of the ocean.

"Have we identified the threat yet, Milord?"

"So far we only know about four black ships of unknown origins." The General answered him. "Whoever they are, we will stop them here. And make sure to take prisoners; I want to know where they're from." His voice had turned into a dangerous growl.

"And retaliate?" To Kozmotis' ears it sounded like civilian massacre, and he fought to keep his voice neutral. From the corner of his eyes he could see Scorpio move his shoulders uncomfortably.

The General's eyes narrowed. "No one threatens Atlantis without paying the price. It is a lesson everyone should know by now, and we will remind them of. If you are _uncomfortable,_ Pitchiner, you can always forfeit your position."

He stiffened somewhat. "That won't be necessary, sir."

Regarding him carefully, Amyntas slowly nodded. "Good. Nereus, your ships will cover my flanks. Enclose the enemy upon their arrival, while Pitchiner's ships will fall into their backs and close the circle; no one gets out."

It was in that moment, when suddenly someone from the crow's nest shouted. "Enemy ships approaching!" All eyes went to the horizon where four black shapes had appeared, closing in from the east with dark clouds looming above them.

A cruel, unsettling joyful smile played on the General's lips. "Bring your ships into position, and prepare your men. You're dismissed."

All attenders bowed and returned to their posts, Kozmotis almost running back to his ship, his expression showing anger, which seemed to concern Lykos. "Sir, do you disagree with the Lord General?"

"Not with the battle plan, but what will follow. Piracy is rarely committed out of malice, but suffrage. For them it is likely a necessity." Briefly he stopped in his tracks to look at the silhouettes, moving slowly as they drove against the wind. "As soon as General Leo knows where the pirates come from, he will wipe them out, along with all women and children. Constellation or not; if in any way possible I won't have us participate in such savagery."

"We might not have much choice, and if I may be so bold, you've worked too hard to get this far. It would seem foolish to sacrifice it all."

From anger, his captain's voice had turned cold as ice. "You advise me to sacrifice my moral code instead? I will ignore your _council, _and for your sake forget that you've ever considered this."

Lykos swallowed hard, and he allowed himself to relax somewhat. "Of course, Lord Pitch. Thank you."

It was true; Kozmotis had worked hard to gain his rank as a captain of the Atlantian fleet. Commonly only members of the great noble houses, the Constellations, could aspire to high positions, be it in military or politics. Only good connections to the houses of Lunar and Sagittarius, Lykos' house, as well as Kozmotis' own skills and determination had brought him this far. Men like the High General Leo however saw this as an affront. It was only likely that he would use any excuse to push Pitchiner down the latter again, given the chance.

Kozmotis focused his mind back on the situation at hand. Most important now was to defeat the enemy here, and preserve his men's lives. Lykos gave the necessary orders and the three ships departed from the rest of the fleet again, both officers keeping an eye on the strange ships in the distance. Something about them just didn't feel right, as if they weren't entirely solid. Perhaps it was simply reflections from the water that fooled their eyes. Once they were in position, all sails were secured, the ships waiting for the signal, most sailors ready at the rudders. Meanwhile the remaining fleet had formed a semi-circle, inviting the pirates into their midst.

"Their ships really are black." Kozmotis said when Lykos joined him at the rear.

"Straight out of your nightmares." It was true; the sails seemed to be cut from a starless night sky, and the ships themselves didn't look like they were made of wood at all, but as if darkness itself had been given form. And they seemed abandoned. "Where is the crew?"

Kozmotis' ships began to move again, as the black ships entered the trap. The sailors were giving it their all, and Nereus was now sending his own to ram the enemy. Four trireme crashed into their targets with their steel noses, a metal only Atlantians knew to produce at the time, and while everyone expected the hear the cracking of breaking wood, there was no noticeable sound at all. The impact was uncomfortably silent, but the prows stuck regardless. The circle was closed, but Kozmotis gave no order to do as Nereus, waiting only a few meters from the enemy. No unnecessary risks. Captain Scorpio's men went on the black ships, rushing over, swords at the ready, without meeting any resistance...and so they began to look around.

"What is going on?" Lykos wondered aloud. "Ghostships?"

His Captain narrowed his eyes. "Four of them? No, this is a trap, and the crew is somewhere on those ships. They probably know we won't use our archers when our own soldiers are onboard. They are likely under deck."

He was partially right. Human like shapes merged out of the ship, hands that grabbed for the men onboard, entire bodies, as dark as the ships themselves. For a few crucial moments the Atlantian soldiers were too shocked to react properly, and the shadow like creatures, slaughter most with blades and claws, which went effortlessly through armor and body alike. The few weapons raised in defense were shattered just the same.

"Demons."

Kozmotis couldn't else but agree; those weren't pirates. Whatever they were, they could only be unnatural. He needed to act quickly, and swiftly he turned to his men, most of which had not seen what had just transpired. "All who had their blades blessed by the priests or sages to the front! Our enemies are no mere men; we'll ram the closest ship and work our way through as a unit! I want no lone heroes today!" As the ships started moving again he spoke to Lykos. "Stay on the ship, and make sure none of these things come onboard."

"Me alone?"

Kozmotis nodded, and drew his own blade, a slender scimitar. For once he was thankful it was customary for commanding officers to have their weapons blessed before leaving harbor. "We'll keep most of them busy, and as I remember, superior numbers have never bothered you before."

"Those were humans." His officer reminded him, doubt still lingering in his voice.

The reply was delivered with a grim smile. "Then let's hope those here are human enough."

Two seconds later they hit the other ship, the impact strangely soft. With his soldiers behind him, Kozmotis threw himself into battle, just as the shadows were about to finish off the last of Scorpio's men. His blade cut through the darkling, and its white pupil-less eyes briefly widened before it faded away into the air like black steam. The sight made his heart jump. They could be killed.

The soldiers had seen the same, and the sudden ferocity of the attack, seem to surprise the shadows. However they quickly recovered, and all across the ship it came to duels, one against one. Kozmotis dodged a wild swing of a slender creature his size, and cut it in half, managing just in time to block an attack supposed for one of Nereus' men, cowering wounded at the deck. Both shadow and human turned towards the Captain, who didn't waste any time and decapitated said shadow. "Get to my ship now." Still in shock the man simply nodded, and stumbled off, though Kozmotis had no time to look whether he made it, as two more shades came for him. He deflected one of the blades, using it to block the other, then delivered a swift kick…his boot went through the shadow as if it weren't even there. Just in that moment one blade came down again, hitting Kozmotis across the chest. If he hadn't leaned back in that very instant, it would have probably cut him wide open, instead the sword had barely touched his skin, leaving only his armor damaged. With a swift swing he chopped its hands off, before it could retreat the sword again. It hissed briefly, in what was probably pain. He sidestepped the other, its own attack missing him by a long shot, delivering a fatal blow from the neck down to its hip.

Even as the second faded away, the first recovered from its injuries. To his horror, Kozmotis watched it reconstituted its hands, growing back from the stumps. It was even more disturbing to watch how a new sword seemed to merge out of his arm. Thankfully the captain recovered quickly, and forced the shadow into the defensive. He blocked a swing from above, holding his sword in the horizontal, pushed it up, over the shade's head, and stabbed it right into the chest. All around him the fighting continued, but it seemed his men were taking over the ship. The shadows did not appear to be used to such active battle; Kozmotis assumed that seeing as only blessed or enchanted weapons worked on them, they had rarely if never needed to fight. Now that the soldiers had overcome their initial shock, they swiftly cut down the enemy. Less than ten minutes after coming onboard, the first of the four ships was secured.

"Lord Pitch." One of his soldiers addressed him, once the last of the pirates had faded in the daylight. "We managed to save fourteen of Captain Scorpio's men."

"Good; send those with severe wound to our ship for treatment, all others will come with us, if their weapons suffice. We will continue to the next ship. I suppose the good captain is in need of our help."

"Right away, sir."

Kozmotis led them over Nereus' own ship, which still stuck in the enemy's hull. It had been spared any damage, but everyone on board was anxious and terrified, and as they let the soldiers through, some tried to find out what had transpired on the other vessel, asking about the true nature of the shadows. They wanted to hear they were human, they needed to know they were mortal.

The waves had brought all ships closer together, making it easy for Kozmotis to jump over to the second black trireme. Even before he came onboard, the captain could hear the shouting of men, cries of pain and laughter cold as ice. Bodies covered the night black deck, just like on the first. Those who were lucky enough to have blessed weapons were still holding up, but outnumbered. Captain Nereus was there as well. His cloak was turned to shreds, his richly decorated armor covered with cuts, blood running out of some. He had been clearly taken by surprise, Kozmotis was certain of that; his fellow captain was far too good a swordsman. Pitchiner's attention was quickly moved elsewhere. A shadow cut down a soldier close by, the blood spewing over Kozmotis' face. Before the creature was ready to strike anew, he'd taken it down. He fought his way to Nereus, who briefly showed relief on his face, before his expression turned back to pain, and he sunk to his knees.

"What are you doing here, Pitchiner?" He rasped, finally having time to catch his breath.

"Saving you, as it seems."

"It was a damn trap. What are those things?"

Kozmotis helped him back on his feet. "Whatever they are we have to finish this quickly. Not everyone is equipped to fight them."

"So I have noticed." Concerned he looked back at Kozmotis. "Pitchiner, they have boarded the General's trireme."

"Then let's finish this quickly."

…

After the second ship, the combined forces of Pitchiner and Scorpio made their way to the High General. The fact that the fight onboard his vessel was still ongoing gave them hope, though not much. The wooden deck had become slippery from the blood, and one had to be careful not to treat on the fallen Atlantians. Both running and sliding, the two captains lead their men to the far side, where the last were holding out. Suddenly Kozmotis saw out of the corner of his eyes, how a shadow merged out of Nereus' own. Just as it reached for him, Kozmotis swung his sword around, and sliced it in two, barely missing the other captain. Nereus jumped when he saw the blade coming over his head, but shock turned into relief and gratitude once he saw the dissolving shade. Others behind them were not so lucky, and the shadows began to appear between their ranks, forcing the attack almost to a stop. Except for the captains.

They kept running, Nereus even stepped through a shadow at one point, with only his sword having an effect on the thing, cutting its leg off. The High General fought alongside his personal guard, five men at this point, all injured. About half a dozen shadows turned around before Kozmotis and Nereus had reached them. They hissed, and lost shape. Like black water they swirled on the floor, before one single creature rose in their place. Three meters tall, and in its shape like a massive wolf or hyena, snout full of black fang, while three pairs of pale white eyes fixated on them. Long claws cracked the wood to its paws, and short spikes rose from its shoulders and back.

Kozmotis and Nereus came to a stop, and glanced at each other quickly. Neither of them had faced anything like this before. "Our enemy learns." Scorpio noted as he tightened his grip around his sword. With a feral growl the beast launched itself at them, splitting the two up when they jumped out of its way. Its fangs only barely missed Kozmotis' feet. A backhand strike touched its nose, and it howled, throwing its head up. Nereus, who was back at his feet, made use of that distraction, and went for the hind legs. Suddenly a humanoid's upper body grew out of it and stabbed him right into the left shoulder. Nereus cried out in pain, which was drowned out the shadow's cold, amused chuckle, before it merged back with its ilk. Kozmotis meanwhile had landed on his back, as one of the paws came down. The air was punched out of his lungs, his head stuck between two claws. He fought to bring his sword around, though he could hardly move his arm. The wolf's fangs came down, straight for his head…

In the last second, Kozmotis managed to point his blade up, cutting through its open jaws into the head. The beast staggered, the pressure on his chest loosened, and with a swing, he'd severed the paw from the leg. Staggering himself a bit, Kozmotis got away from it as fast as possible, catching his breath. Nereus showed up next to him, pressing his right hand on the wound, blood running from between his fingers. "You're alright?"

Pitchiner nodded. "Better than you. Look!" The beast shrunk noticeably, but the paws grew back regardless.

"I guess we have to kill it once for every shadow that makes this thing up."

"One down, five to go."

Not a second later the wolf charged them again, and with only one arm, Nereus met it head on. He was pushed back, his face showing grim determination, but the blade barley sunk into its dark flesh. The sheer mass of shadows seemed enough to be a match to the enchantment upon the blade. Meanwhile Kozmotis went for the neck. He was ready to stab, as the humanoid body emerged anew, so he threw himself down, using his velocity to slide under the beast, cutting through the throat.

"Four!"

The temporary weakness allowed Nereus to strike out, and launch his sword into its head. "Three." He said with a triumphant smile. Knowing their plan wasn't working, the now smaller wolf retreated and split up into three separate entities. "Two of them are mine." In mere seconds all three were dispatched off, gone in the light, and having reached the limit of his strength, Nereus collapsed.

"Can I keep you alone for a minute?" Kozmotis asked, looking over to Amyntas, who was down to a single guard.

Biting his teeth together, Nereus nodded. "Yes, now go and save the General."

Not losing another second, Kozmotis ran, only a few more meters between him and Amyntas. About seven shadows brought down the last soldier, his screams like himself killed as blades went through his lungs. Horror was written into the General's face, as he suddenly stood alone against ten. Kozmotis sword was lifted to strike…he stumbled. A pirate had risen out of his own shadow, holding on to both his ankles. Reacting quickly he curled up, swiftly cutting himself loose, before rolling back onto his feed. His head was back up just in time to see all remaining shadows relieving the High General of his duties.

"No!" Pitchiner bellowed, crashing blade first into one of the group. Like a whirlwind, he struck out to all sides, obviously confusing his enemies. Four were dispatched off in this almost mindless move, the others retreating hissing coldly at him. They surrounded him like a pack of predators. "What are you waiting for?" He dared them, picking up another sword from a fallen soldier.

Hissing was replaced by laughter that would have sent down shivers through any man's spine. "Your fear."

Like a group sharks they came for him all at once. It would have been foolish to wait, and meet them all together, so Kozmotis ran towards one. With one sword he pushed the black saber aside, killing the shadow with the other. The first two reached him then, and crossing his blades above his head he blocked them both. All they needed to do now was keep him pinned, and wait for the others to take him down. Instead Kozmotis suddenly withdrew, and having previously put all their force and weight on their blades, the shades stumbled briefly forward. Enough time for the captain. Now to the rest. Blade against blade, he lead the first past him, stabbing the second before it could strike, dodged under a wild swing of the third. Standing right behind it, he brought both swords down, cutting down from the shoulder to the hip. Even as the shadows faded, he had the last's throat between both blades. "You, I want alive." And it knew then that it was the last of its ilk alive.

…

Kozmotis regarded the creature on its knees in front of him, two soldiers having their blades at its throat. Somehow the shadow looked like it was made of dry, constantly shifting tar, while the sharp white eyes seemed to pierce right through him; it made him shiver ever so slightly. "What are you?"

It hissed, and then chuckled. "We are all that you fear."

Behind Kozmotis, Nereus scoffed while a healer tended to his injury. "I hope for you that you have a more specific explanation." Scorpio growled.

"We are the shadows that haunt mankind, the manifestations of their fears. We have always been, and will always be."

"One can still kill you." Pitchiner spoke with certainty, and could see how the two soldiers ever so slightly relaxed, as if they had needed that confirmation.

"We don't fear death, for we are fear."

"Why do you attack us?"

"It is in our nature; like fire burns, we are compelled to cause fear. We feed off it, and you are a ready supply. Now that we have form, we can make the world share one fear." It chuckled again in a cold voice, clearly delighted by the men's discomfort; Kozmotis could see that the soldiers would like nothing more than to kill this thing, or get away from it as fast and far as possible.

Nereus was apparently feeling the same. "Kill it." Two blades cut through the shadow, and it faded away in the daylight, without a trace, like all the others had in battle.

"Seeing as I was questioning it, don't you think I should have decided its fate?" Pitchiner spoke rather coldly.

"If you want to keep the next as prisoners, be my guest." The other captain growled. "That is, if you can find a way to hold them. But you won't bring them to Atlantis."

"That was never my intention, I assure you." The other Captain seemed satisfied with that. Sadly Nereus was right though: while Kozmotis despised the thought of killing prisoners, they had no way of holding shadows, seeing as only enchanted weapons seemed to have an effect on them. Maybe until their next encounter, Kozmotis could come up with a way of keeping them locked up. He already had someone in mind, who might be able to help him.

"Return to your ships, and see to your men." Scorpio said. "We'll meet tonight and discuss our report."

"Don't you want to take a break?"

"Not yet, and I have my officers to assist me." As the older of the two captains, Nereus temporarily held the authority of the High General. Kozmotis nodded once more and turned to leave. "Oh, and Pitchiner…thank you for saving my life back there."

"You're welcome."

Returning to the ship was not without its surprises. Everyone stopped working to watch the four black ships slowly disappearing like a mirage, similar to their crew. Kozmotis stared to the spot that just moments ago had been occupied by them, his brain not yet fully believing what his eyes were seeing. Though that could be said about many other things today. It was hard to tell whether the already unnerved Atlantians were relieved or frightened by this disappearance.

Over Nereus' ships, Kozmotis lead his men back to his own, which were by far the least damaged, and most crowded. Lykos seemed relieved to see his captain still alive, he himself having only suffered a minor cut along his left cheek. "Lord Pitch, it is good to see you alive and well. We've been told the Lord High General fell in battle."

Tired Kozmotis nodded, looking over to the crew. "I'm afraid he did. How are the men?"

"Three of Captain Scorpio's have died of their wounds, the others are still being treated. Do you wish to have them returned to their ship?"

"No, they'll stay with us, at least until they're stable." His gaze turned to where just until recently the black ship had been. "I'm afraid we'll meet these shadows again, Lykos, maybe sooner than we'd like. Until our next employment, I want each of my men to have at least one enchanted weapon; I'll pay them myself if necessary."

Lykos followed his captain, as he wandered over his trireme, checking on the wounded, who had been brought to the starboard side of the vessel. "I don't suppose we stay here for long."

Kozmotis was kneeling next to a man with his right arm amputated, who seemed dizzy from the pain and blood loss, and asked hoarsely for water. Before answering his second in command, he helped the wounded drink from a wooden ladle. "No, the ships themselves have taken little damage, so I hope we can leave at dawn. I'd like to return to Atlantis as soon as possible, and I believe so would the men."

Grateful, Lykos nodded in appreciation. "Indeed."

* * *

Throughout the journey home, most, if not all men complained about nightmares, claiming they saw visions, like having the pirates hunting and slaughtering them and their families at night. The encounter had truly left marks, and now every night the men had left as many lamps burning through the dark hours as possible, in a vain effort to eradicate the shadows on the ships. Quickly new names were established for what they had seen, attempts to explain what the pirates were. All agreed they weren't human, but living shadows. On some ships they were called fearlings, the term darklings grew popular as well, but most commonly used became Dream Pirates or Nightmare Men. They all felt like a perfect fit.

On the third day around noon, the main island of the Atlantian kingdom appeared on the horizon, in its size similar to the island of Britannia up north, though in shape more circular. Just the sight raised their hearts, even more when the capital's harbor became viewable, its wall enclosing the bay like a half-moon's sickle. In case of an attack, massive portals could close the entry between the two outmost points, now however they stood wide open, allowing in up to two triremes side by side. Flanking the portal on both sides were two massive banners, in size similar to a sail, showing Atlantis' very own sigil; a white tree with golden leaves on a dark blue ground. Legend said that not only had the tree, which only grew on Atlantis, saved the first colonists during a harsh first winter, but their fruits had given them knowledge, allowing the kingdom to be further advanced than any other nation at the time. Whether it was true or not, the tree was considered sacred, and the last few preserved in the palace's gardens.

The city itself was dominated by high towers and domes, all made of solid stone, most of which in white, making the buildings reflect the sunlight. Colorful banners flew everywhere, most showing the sigils of the noble houses, others that of the priesthood, sages' guild or other professions offering their services to the citizens. Some of the richer merchants had painted their properties in bright colors, making them stand out among the others. Just like on the day of the fleet's departure, over a hundred ships were anchored in the harbor, in all sizes and shapes. By now Kozmotis could see that a great crowd at gathered to welcome them home, hundreds of hands waving in the air. From the corner of his eyes he saw Lykos joining him at the prow. "We've hardly been away for a week, and still I'm overjoyed to return."

"We all are, Lykos."

An unusual grin showed on his face. "I suppose that includes my sister."

Kozmotis laughed something none of them had done since the battle. "I certainly hope so." He said as his ships were brought to the dock, belonging to the Sagittarius family. Among those waiting there, Kozmotis spotted her. She was wearing one of her favorite dresses in a soft green to match her eyes, while she wore her wavy, dark brown hair in a long braid. Her lips formed to a relieved smile, as both Kozmotis and Lykos got off the ship.

Her brother was the first to speak. "It is good to see you again, dear sister. I return your husband to you, safe and sound."

"Thank you, my brother. No one knows what will happen when you two get your heads together." She joked, keeping her tone serious but with a twinkle in her eyes, which were wandering to her husband even as she spoke, who was standing partly behind her sibling.

"She'll never forgive us for burning her hair as children, will she?" Nereus whispered loudly to his old friend, leaning towards him.

"I suspect it will haunt us until the end of our days." Kozmotis replied, more amused than concerned.

It was then that she got a look at his chest, and rushed to him, Nereus having to step out of her way. "You're injured." Amina said worried, a hand wandering over the cut in Kozmotis' leathern chest guard.

"Mere scratches, I assure you." He told her with a smile, his thumb running over her cheek, the other placed gently upon her arm. "I'm more concerned about you."

She smiled back at him, as his eyes wandered down to her small belly. "We are fine; you know how careful I can be, other than you."

"I'll leave you two alone." Lykos decided then. "I will be seeing you tomorrow at the hearing, Kozmotis. Dearest Sister."

The two nodded their goodbyes, before Lykos made his way through the crowd, two guards of his house, who had waited at the dock, escorting him. "Shall we return home as well?" Amina asked her husband.

"I'd like nothing better; there is much I wish to tell you."

Her expression turned back to concern. "You seem troubled."

"This journey has been quite…unique." He admitted, choosing his words carefully. "But I rather share it with you in private."

…

The ride home took until afternoon, providing Kozmotis with ample time to tell of what had transpired out on sea. As usual Amina listened to him without interrupting, first taking in everything he said. Unsurprisingly she was disquiet, her fingers moving restlessly over the horse-gear.

"Do you believe what this thing has told you?" She asked, once he'd finished.

"I haven't found a better explanation yet, and after what I've seen…I'm just glad there is a way to fight them. I dread to think what would have happened otherwise to us and Atlantis."

"This won't have been your last encounter with them, Kozmo." Amina realized.

"Afraid not." He admitted, and saw her biting her lower lip. "If they truly are the manifestations of our fears, there might not even be a way to definitively deal with them. That is why I'll have to talk to the sages on this matter tomorrow."

"Do have someone special in mind?"

"Archmage Ombric Shalazar has always been one for experimentation, and he should be there when we'll give our report at the hearing." When he turned his gaze back on the road, Kozmotis saw his home on top of a wide cliff. It was a villa, white, same as almost every other building on the island, surrounded by a vast garden and meadows. On the latter workers took care of the horses, which were property of the house Pitchiner for generations, and there were no finer in the kingdom.

"You look as if you haven't seen it in years."

"After not having slept well for days it almost feels like it."

"My dear, now I'm here to protect you." She teased him with a warm voice, placing a loving hand on his.

His reply came in kind. "I feel so much safer." And he kissed her hand, looking into her eyes cheeky, which elicited a smile from her. Even though it was intended to be more of a joke, somehow Kozmotis meant it seriously at the same time; he truly did feel safer here.

* * *

Once when Atlantis had been built the palace, at the highest point of the city, had truly been home to the king. After his death however there had been structural changes, and so now every three years two of the noble houses were elected to be head of state. These two kings had no absolute power, and had to involve the council, consisting of members of all constellational houses, in almost every decision. Before this council and representatives of the sages and priesthood, Nereus Scorpio and Kozmotis Pitchiner had come to give their report, following the funeral ceremony for High General Leo, and the other fallen. Fourteen nobles and the additional four representatives sat in a semi-circle in an elevated position, with their respective sigil engraved upon their thrones, while the two captains were standing in the hall's center. The entire floor itself was a massive mosaic, a scene from the colonization, with the Atlantian Tree right beneath their feed. Light flooded into the hall through tall slim windows, framed by marble pillars with floral patterns engraved on them. Far above them, the dome's interior was decorated with golden stars, the constellations as they could be seen in the night sky. Behind them every captain of the Golden Fleet, along with their highest officers, were sitting on an ascending array of marble benches.

Nereus spoke most of the time, with Kozmotis only adding a few details. He could see the doubt and concern on their faces. Looking over to the sage and magician Ombric Shalazar, Pitchiner saw him leaning forward, resting his elbows on the marble table, and his chin on his hands. In his eyes he could see that the older man with the long white beard believed their every word.

Lord Aries however had his eyes narrowed. "Do you believe there is still a threat to Atlantis?"

Seemingly insulted by the doubt that hung over most, Nereus took a step forward, one hand clenched to a fist. "If those pirates are what they claim, they will return. If there are more of their kin, we have given them a reason to seek revenge. We are certain that Atlantis will face this enemy again."

Tsar Lunar turned his attention to Kozmotis. "You agree with your fellow captain, Lord Pitchiner?"

"I do, Lord Lunar. It is indispensable that we prepare for this next encounter. As we have reported, blessed and enchanted weapons have shown to be effective against these enemies, and I trust both the priesthood as well as the sages' guild will assist us with their expertise." His eyes wandered to the two Archpriests, one leaning back as if he was uncomfortable, and then to the Archmages, both of which were nodding, while Ombric actually smiled, much to Kozmotis' delight.

"Are there any more questions?" Lord Myron Solar asked, but he was answered by silence and shaking heads. "Very well, we thank you for your report, Captain Scorpio, Captain Pitchiner, and we will leave the matter of preparing the Golden Fleet within your capable hands. You're dismissed."

Nereus and Kozmotis bowed, while the other captains and officers behind them rose from their seats. As they all left, Pitchiner could hear Lord Solar speak again. "Now the council will discuss the appointment of the next High General…" Two golden armored guards closed the heavy portal behind them, muting every sound from within.

"That could have gone better." Nereus muttered.

Kozmotis agreed. They had not been convincing enough, not to all, otherwise the council would have ordered the armament, instead of leaving it to the captains; now they would have to persuade their peers, which was easier said than done. Many had an ego to match their rank. "It would help if they appointed you."

Scorpio scuffed. "Me? They think I'm telling fairytales. If I ever had a chance, it's likely gone now."

They stepped into the sacred garden, the palace's heart where the Atlantian trees grew high into the sky, their golden leaves throwing soft shadows on the ground, an always perfectly trimmed lawn. "I'll be waiting here for Ombric Shalazar. If any sage is going to support us it's going to be him."

"Agreed."

"You want to stay as well?"

"No, I let your silver tongue do the work. I'll be seeing after my men; there are so many still in treatment. Until next time, Lord Pitch."

"Lord Scorpio." As Nereus left, Kozmotis sat down on one of the many benches, well aware that the council meeting could take well over an hour. Relaxing he leaned back against the wall behind him, his gaze wandering along the ancient trunks, and the beautiful artwork ornamenting the palace itself. Above him the sun was reaching its highest point.

…

"Are we actually buying into their story?" Lord Capricorn growled, his arms crossed. "Living shadows, black ships that disappear in daylight?"

"Two of our most capable captains, as well as hundreds of our soldiers claim it to be true." Tsar Lunar reminded him.

Ombric took the word. "My Lords, we are living in a world where the oceans and lands are filled with monsters, and magic has become a profession. This should not seem farfetched to us, only because we haven't encountered them thus far." The assembled thought about his words, and Lunar nodded appreciative to the wizard.

The representative of house Aquarius was the first to speak again. "In any case, I would be wiser to be prepared than to be caught off guard." With that no one disagreed, not even the Lords of Capricorn or Aries.

"What do the priests think?" Gemini asked. "Could they be demons?"

"Without having seen one of those 'shadows' in person, we cannot say, I'm afraid."

Concurring the other priest nodded. "That being said, you should elect a General who can meet this threat."

Lord Scorpio was eager throw in his nomination. "It would be wise to appoint someone who has fought them before. Nereus Scorpio has been captain for two decades, and won every battle we've sent him to. His promotion is self-evident."

"And more than half his men are dead or injured." Taurus added in an almost teasing manner.

"Great words from someone whose house has never served in the fleet." Came the cold reply. It was true; the house of Taurus was forming the main bulk of the Atlantian land based army.

"Maybe we should consider Lord Pitchiner." Everyone looked surprised at Lord Libra.

"Pitchiner? He's not even of the Constellations. Never before has the Golden Fleet been led by someone not of our families."

Lunar seemed more interested in Libra's proposal. "Then maybe it's time it does. The High General of the Seas is responsible of keeping all of Atlantis safe, regardless of house and name. I believe that someone like Pitchiner will be less likely to favor any one Constellation and be more…neutral. And even though he hasn't served as long as captain Scorpio, he has distinguished himself."

"His wife is Sagittarius, and so are most of the ships under his command." Virgo remarked.

Libra seemed unimpressed by this argument. "Anyone under consideration has some biases. But I agree with Tsar; Pitchiner is capable, both as a warrior and a commanding officer. The men trust him, and the last battle has gained him even more support amongst them. If we appoint him, they will follow, regardless of house. He has also managed well in diplomatic missions, avoided us wars with the Egyptians and the people of the Iberian Peninsula. Doubtless he is qualified."

"A house of horse breeders leading our Golden Fleet against what could turn out to be the greatest threat our realm has faced to date?"

"Seeing as you don't believe that anyway, Lord Aries, this shouldn't bother you as much." Ombric spoke quietly, but audibly for everyone. "Besides, I was always under the impression the High General was appointed according to his qualification, his skills. A sad day indeed for Atlantis if the stars you're born under are all that matter in the end."

Tsar Lunar fought to keep his face straight; the wizard had managed to render all Constellations speechless for two times now. It was rather amusing, but he worried Ombric would never be allowed in this hall again after today. A bold man very much to his liking. The council had been formed so no house would rule over all others, to allow the best in charge at all times. "So, my Lords: should we make Lord Pitchiner our new High General of the Seas?"

* * *

**Author's notes: **

**Characters from the original books: **Kozmotis Pitchiner, Lady (Amina) Pitchiner, Ombric Shalazar, Tsar Lunar, Dream Pirates/Fearlings/Nightmare Men

**Atlantis**: In the books the only character I know of, who comes from Atlantis is the wizard Ombric Shalazar, and it just made sense to me that a Golden Age, which had to take place thousands of years ago, should involve the legendary island continent. Seeing as Pitch Black ends/destroys the Golden Age in the books before coming to earth, it is convenient to equivalent the sinking of Atlantis with such an event. This of course will be much later in the story.

**Constellations and houses**: The Constellations, some sort of noble and almost divine rulers of the galaxy in the books, became more human, seeing as we are on earth. So there is going to be more of defined social structure with leaders and subjects, and therefore they need to be imperfect, have arrogance, prejudice, faults…all the good stuff (add sarcastic voice here). For names and recognition I mainly used those of the horoscope, except for Lunar, who was important in the books as the Man in the Moon's father, so I couldn't leave him out, and Solar.

Considering that there is no star constellation named Pitchiner, Kozmotis must clearly be a step lower in the social structure, yet still be of a noble house, so he would be considered for a high position such as High General of the Galaxies (his full title in the books)/Seas at all.

**Family**: From what I've read, Lady Pitchiner has no first name in the books, so I pick one. If in fact she already has one, apologies, I didn't know. I also gave her ties to a Constellation so it would appear more legitimate why Kozmotis was Captain in the Golden Fleet, and where he got the ships to command over.

**_Why did I give him horses?_** Well, in the movie he creates nightmares, and I wanted to make another connection to the mares. Besides in times before the engine, a horse was a valued animal, the fastest way to get around on land. People of all cultures have treasured them, and do so today.

**_Where is Sandy?_** Sorry, you'll have to be patient. In the books he appears much later, when he meets Pitch's daughter, but I'll have his introduction in the third chapter or so, well before that incident.


	2. Plans & Hopes

**Chapter II**

Surprisingly early the council hall's portal opened again, but Kozmotis wasn't about to complain. He watched the procession of nobles walk pass him without taking notice of his presence as he was sitting in their backs, partly concealed by shadows. The two Archmages in their traditional blue robes were among the last to arrive in the garden, and swiftly Kozmotis jumped to his feet.

"Honored Archmages, a word?" He asked friendly, when he approached them.

Both men turned around, Ombric Shalazar smiling. "Ah, Lord Pitchiner. If you wish to ask for our services, Trismegistus and I have decided that the sages' guild will outfit all Atlantian soldiers, as you suggested at no cost."

This was good new indeed; at least one thing he didn't need to worry about anymore. "Thank you, Archmages, you have my gratitude and that of my men. However that is not the only thing I'd like to discuss with you. I fear defeating the shadows in battle will not be enough to keep Atlantis permanently safe."

Trismegistus, who was already an elderly man, with a pointy silver beard, stroke said feature thoughtfully. "Speak your mind, captain."

Kozmotis took a deep breath, quickly gathering his thoughts. He had considered how to explain them while he'd waited. "If they truly are the embodiment of men's fears, they should be technically immortal, so even if their bodies are destroyed, the shadows probably take form again and return to plague us. Frankly, I believe the only way to permanently subdue them is to lock them away." On their journey back to Atlantis, Kozmotis had told Nereus the same, the other captain however had insisted that killing the Dream Pirates sufficed. Hopefully the mages thought differently.

"A prison for shadows." Ombric concluded. "No surprise you seek the help of mages. Unfortunately it will be difficult for us to design the proper spells and incantations, without examining one such shadow."

"Which reminds me: Lord Pitchiner, did the shadow you question ever attempted to escape?"

He blinked, slightly confused. "No; I assumed it'd given up."

The sages looked at each other again, before Trismegistus slowly began. "Perhaps it couldn't use its abilities in close proximity to the swords. After all their flesh became solid and could be cut during battle, thanks to the enchantments."

"True." Ombric agreed, and turned back to the captain. "Though if we wish to imprison then, the spell we use for our weapon's enchantment must be modified."

The other mage continued his thought. "Weaken them, take their powers without destroying them. I'm certain it can be done; we should make it guild priority."

Nodding, Ombric turned to the captain. "Lord Pitch, I would like to join you on your next mission against the Dream Pirates, to examine one myself."

Kozmotis smiled, and briefly bowed. "I'd be honored, Archmage."

The other sage's expression grew more serious. "Furthermore, we need a suitable location for their prison. I think we all agree that it cannot be on Atlantis itself, should ever a spell fail, or the shadows escape for some reason." They did agree; anything else was out of the question.

As a captain of the Golden Fleet, Kozmotis knew the waters of Atlantis like the back of his hand. "There are countless uninhabited and desolated islands within our sea's borders. One of them will surely suffice. I hope the future High General will not hinder our efforts; my best hope is that Nereus will be appointed, though he doubts it." Both sages exchanged a glance. "You already know who's going to be appointed, do you not?" He was eager to asked, but wouldn't; he was not allowed to know until the official announcement.

Ombric was choosing his words carefully. "We can't tell you, as you are no doubt aware, but we think he will actually support us in our action."

"A relief to know." True, his heart felt much lighter.

Trismegistus narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. "Out of curiosity, captain, have you ever wanted to become the High General yourself?"

"Actually I have never entertained the thought. It was miraculous enough when I became captain for the house Sagittarius." Kozmotis though t about it for a while. "I suspect there would be resistance from some houses…It is problematic if you can't count on your allies, especially given this new situation…but these thoughts are merely hypothetical, and with all due respect, I'd rather discuss the location for the prison."

"Then maybe we should move this meeting to the library." Ombric proposed. "I'm certain there we will be provided with the necessary charts, for our work."

* * *

That night was peaceful, the sky was clear, and the moon shone brightly upon Atlantis. There was very little wind, and while in the meadows crickets chirped, somewhere in the vast garden around the villa an owl hooted, its golden eyes piercing through the night.

In the villa, Kozmotis suddenly found himself sitting upright in his bed, the blanket having slipped down to his hip. Cold sweat was running down his face and bare torso as he panted heavily, and he ran a hand over his face. Beside him Amina stirred. "Kozmo, you're alright?" She murmured still half asleep.

He was trying to calm his breathing. "It… it was just a nightmare."

Amina sat up, and put a comforting hand on his biceps. "The shadows? What have you dreamed?"

"I shouldn't bother you with…"

"I insist." Amina interrupted him.

Kozmotis sighed, before he began slowly, with a low voice. "I saw Atlantis destroyed. The sky was darkened by smoke, and clouds of ashes. In the harbor the ships were burning, while the city itself lay in ruins. Her people had been slaughtered, and the only sound I could hear was cruel laughter." With a hand he ran through his hair. "Nothing but the cruel laughter of shadows, echoing in my head… When I came here, our home had crumbled…"

Gently Amina kissed his shoulder as he stopped. "Tell me."

For the first time he turned his head to her. "You were already on the other side by the time I had found you." His voice sounded hoarse, and he put his own hand upon hers; his was cold by comparison. "You died, and there was nothing I could have done."

She snuggled closer to him. "Don't fear for me; there is no place safer than Atlantis."

"There is always the possibility that an enemy reaches us even here, and who knows what powers the shadows truly possess."

"But next time you'll be prepared for them." Kozmotis nodded, and gently clenched her hand. After a few moments of silence Amina spoke again. "You once told me, fear was necessary for a soldier."

"Yes, a certain amount keeps your senses keen; it stops you from taking unnecessary risks, and bringing others and yourself in danger. Too much or too little is what's truly dangerous. What will be the cost if it grows too much?"

She sighed, and answered in the most soothing of voices. "I don't know what comfort I can give you, but the Kozmotis I know has overcome anything life has thrown at him."

"Only because I had you at my side."

"Now you give me too much credit."

"You give yourself too little." He corrected her and gave her a kiss. "Your support means much to me, always has. Not to mention that without your insistence, your parents would have never allowed me to marry you." It was not like his parents in law didn't like him; Kozmotis had been an orphan, his father having died in battle, and his mother at childbirth, a reason why he felt so concerned for his own wife. The Sagittarius family, having close ties to the Pitchiner, had taken care of him as a child, and had made sure the Pitchiner properties were conveyed to him, when he came of age. The only thing they had against the marriage was that there had been nothing for them to gain politically. Both Amina and Lykos however had been very persistence, and in the end their parents had yielded.

She chuckled, such a lovely sound in the dark, and softly placed a kiss on his cheek. "Try to sleep, love. You've earned it."

Kozmotis laid back and made himself comfortable, Amina half resting on his chest. Soon, her steady breathing told him that she'd fallen asleep again. For a while his mind was restless, processing the nightmare, but he was too exhausted and before long drifted back into a blissfully dreamless sleep.

* * *

A couple of days passed, and Kozmotis had diverted much time to studying the charts from the Atlantian library. They concerned the uninhabited islands and sea currents within the Atlantian realm, the latter Kozmotis was already well acquainted with. Amina was well within her right when she claimed that Atlantis was the safest place to be; thanks to the numerous islands and reefs, the kingdom was a labyrinth for any sailor, and only someone who knew about the sometimes strong as well as dangerous currents could safely navigate between islands. This labyrinth was one of the reasons why no nation had ever dared so far to attack the kingdom itself, but only outposts on the continent or merchant ships. The currents also dictated certain routes, which meant that sometimes even if two islands where close to each other, one would have to take a detour or even travel over a third island entirely, when trying to get from the one to the other.

Kozmotis had made himself comfortable in his own study at home, a room which walls were painted with the shapes of twines in brown and orange, lined with shelves full of scrolls and except for some chairs was devoid of all furniture. While one door led back into the villa, a pair of wooden double doors led to a semi-circular balcony, giving a wonderful view from the cliff over the ocean. Right now the balcony doors were open, and white curtains moved gently in the wind. When looking straight down from the balustrade, one would look at a small bay about fifty meters below, where the water broke against the rocks. To the left a staircase ran down to said bay, where the coastline leveled with the sea surface.

"Still haven't found anything?"

Kozmotis looked up from one of his scrolls to Amina, who was sitting in one of the other chairs, attending to one of her favorite hobbies, drawing with coal. Every time she did, her fingers, sometimes her entire hands would turn black, and just for the fun of it, she'd pat his face with them. More than once her drawing sessions ended up with him having hand shaped prints on his jaw or cheek. "Several candidates, but I'm only half way through. Suddenly I wish our realm would be smaller." Amina chuckled, and turned back to her drawing. "What are you drawing this time?"

"You know I only show, when it's done."

He shrugged and turned back to his reading material. Soon again however he was interrupted as one of his guards entered the room. The man in leather armor over green clothing, bowed briefly, before stating his matter. "Lord Pitch; a delegation is waiting for you in the atrium."

Kozmotis lay aside his scroll. "Of what house?"

"The Council, Milord."

He looked over to Amina, who seemed equally surprised as she cleaned her hands from the coal. "What have you done?" She asked with an eyebrow raised.

"Why do you always assume I've done something?" He asked her as he stood up.

"Experience." She replied, but with that smile he couldn't be mad at her.

Instead he offered her his hand. "Why don't you join me, and we'll find out together."

"Gladly."

Amina took the hand, and together they followed the guard upstairs. The atrium itself was just behind the front portal, a square court from which the enclosed rooms led off, as well as the additional wing of the villa, where the guards and servants with their families lived. Small trees had been planted along its borders at the bases of the ceiling supporting pillars, while the floor was covered with sand colored pea gravel. Five men in golden armor stood there waiting, two holding banners with the Atlantian sigil upon them, while the one in front held a scroll. As soon as Kozmotis and Amina walked into the Atrium, the latter took his helmet off, the white, horse hair brass swaying back and forth, signifying him as the captain.

Kozmotis spread his arms in a welcoming gesture. "It is an honor to welcome the Council Guard in my home. What do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

The captain offered him the scroll, and as soon as Kozmotis had taken it spoke. "Lord Kozmotis Pitchiner: it is my great privilege to inform you that the Council of Atlantis bestows upon you, the honorable title of High General of the Seas, Lord of the Golden Fleet, and Great Protector of Atlantis."

The entire delegation kneeled before him, while Kozmotis could only stare at the herald in utter disbelieve, and Amina had covered her mouth with her fingers, her jaw having dropped just a bit. His mouth suddenly felt completely dry, as he slowly opened the scroll. Every word he'd just been told stood there in beautiful calligraphy, along with the oath each High General had to reside at the public appointment ceremony.

"Do you accept the title, and all duties and privileges it implies?"

He needed to swallow before he could speak again. "I accept them."

"Then the ceremony will be held on the next full moon, in four days." The captain rose again, and with a gesture signified two more of his men to enter, carrying a chest between them; upon the wood had been carved the Atlantian Tree, flanked by two shying horses. They placed it next to their captain, bowed and stepped back again. "This chest contains the accoutrement you'll be expected to wear on that day, my Lord. Blessings of the divine upon you."

"And upon you, captain."

With another bow to him and Amina, the Golden Guard left again. Both Pitchiners remained standing still in the Atrium, looking after them, somewhat baffled by recent events. Slowly Kozmotis turned to his wife. It took a few moments before astonishment disappeared from her expression.

"Not what we expected?" She asked at an easy rate.

"Frankly among the last." He admitted, then addressed his guard, who'd been standing close by. "Have the chest taken to our bedroom."

"Right away, Lord Pitch."

As soon as the guard exited the atrium, Kozmotis took Amina by the hand and led her downstairs, back to the study. After closing the door behind him, he then rushed to his wife, standing close to the chairs at the center. He picked her up to spin them around, her beautiful laughter filling the room. When he stopped, Amina lowered her head, and they kissed deeply, her legs now wrapped around his waist.

"This is wonderful, Kozmo." She breathed, her hands framing his face.

"And I was almost certain they'd appointed Nereus."

"How is that?"

He let her down on her own feet again, keeping his hands at her hips however. "The Archmages; I talked with them right after the election. I mentioned that it would be beneficial if Nereus was to become the next High General, as he has seen the shadows same as me. The way they look at each other after I said it made me sure he'd been chosen."

Amina placed a soft kiss on his lips. "Well, I think this is even better."

"It also explains why they asked me, if I'd ever considered the rank for myself."

"Were they satisfied with your answer?"

Gently he rested his forehead against hers. "Haven't I just proven how terrible I am in reading their intentions?" Kozmotis asked her smiling. "To be honest I think if anything they spoke in my favor before the council; both belonged to the few, who believed our report from the beginning."

"So now you have the support of the guild, and the mightiest military machine of our age behind you. I very much think it is now the shadows, which are not prepared."

Now it was his turn to laugh, and then kissed her again. What doubt and fear had plagued him over the previous days, it was now gone without a trace in this blissful moment.

* * *

It was the day of the full moon, and Kozmotis had put on the accoutrement he'd been given. First it was very basic, with light black trousers and a long-sleeved black shirt. The almost knee-high leather boots were also black, but with some golden embroidery, and the sleeves were tucked into forearm guards made of a silver metal, and painted over with a dull green enamel. Of course there was the tree upon them again. Kozmotis put on a green jacket, which almost went to his knees, and had short sleeves as far as the deltoid, the upper most muscle of the arm, ending shortly beneath the axle. At last he put on a sort of collar, reminiscent of Egyptian collars, covering his upper chest and shoulders, but made of stripes of white cloth and going halfway up his neck. It was bordered black, and like the boots with golden embodiment, while at the back it ended in a long, white cloak but without such a border. The sun was coming up in the east, and it was time to depart for the capital.

That day it seemed that all of Atlantis had shown up, people lining the street from the northern city gate to the temple in the very center. The Golden Guard was holding off the crowd, each soldier holding a spear in one hand, and an oval shaped shield in the other. Cheering followed Kozmotis the entire way to the temple, as he rode with Amina at his side, her dress mirroring his colors, and his personal guard behind him, some holding the green banner with the sigil of his house. Today however, he saw it all across the city as well; the black horse on a green ground. Already something about this day didn't feel quite real, as if reality had taken a step back.

The streets of Atlantis were made of white lime stone and black basalt, creating floral-pattern mosaics, and well cut trees lined them, green patches everywhere between the majority of white buildings. Ropes had been tautened from one to the other, and across the streets, colorful lanterns fastened to them.

In Atlantis' heart stood the Temples of the divines, devoted to any deity or spirit the people believed in. It was a massive building, its main structure oblong, and build with sand-colored stone, ending with a giant dome at the far side of the entry. Kozmotis and Amina dismounted, and a servant of the priesthood took care of their horses. He offered an arm to his wife, and she placed her hand on his forearm.

They climbed the wide staircase that led to the temple portals, which were together about six meters wide and ten high. If the portals had been closed, one could have gazed upon beautiful ornaments, two griffins made of golden plates, every feather added with great care and an eye for detail. They sat on their hind legs, each having a paw lifted towards the other, almost touching where the doors would meet. The interior was no less impressive, and had earned its name "Hall of a hundred columns". The ceiling was supported by one hundred columns, which reached twenty meters high, their capitals shaped like various animals, lions, bulls and eagles among the most common, all made of dark wood, and so even with the many windows close to the ceiling it was rather dark. Most of the light flooded in through the entry behind Kozmotis, making him and Amina throw long shadows on the floor.

The path from the entry to the altar, which stood at the top of another smaller staircase so it could be seen from everywhere, was covered with a white carpet, lined with golden embroidery. The marble altar was also standing beneath the dome, where the interior of the temple was not made of wood, but stone, while behind it were standing three pedestals. On two of them basins had been placed, about two meters in diameter, carved out of red granite. In them two flames burned, for three years as it was customary, lightened by the kings when they took office, while the third basin stood on the altar, waiting for Kozmotis to light it at the end of the ceremony.

The temple was crowded with people, mostly members of noble houses like the Constellations, but also wealthy merchants and sages. The higher their rank and status, the further in front they stood, all trying to outdo one another with colorful vestments. Kozmotis walked through the hall, Amina still having a hand placed on his arm, feeling every eye tracking him. It was quite unnerving, and so he focused his own straight ahead. Three men awaited him at the top of the stairs, the two kings, Lord Myron Solar and Lord Sappho Pisces, along with one of the Archpriests. Both kings were dressed in togas, each in the colors of their house, Solar in white, yellow and gold, Pisces in blue, green and silver. The Archpriest's toga was more subtle in white with a broad purple stripe on its border.

Amina took her place at the base of the stairs, while Kozmotis ascended only stopping at the second to last step. Silence fell over the hall.

"People of Atlantis!" Lord Solar spoke, his voice resounding in the entire hall, for all to hear. A broad smile played on his lips, his arms raised and spread widely, as if he wanted to embrace everyone within these sacred walls. "We have gathered here to pass the duties of High Generals into new hands. Today we entrust our realm and lives to a man, who has proven himself worthy of such responsibilities. For the first time in our history, the title will not go the Constellations, for we must honor our own vows and traditions. We must honor that we once swore to choose the best among our people, and so we have done." He turned to Kozmotis, and lowered his arms. "Kneel."

Kozmotis got down on his right knee, and placed the right fist on his chest atop of his heart, the other hand resting in his left thigh.

After taking a deep breath, Solar spoke anew. "Do you, Lord Kozmotis Pitchiner, swear to uphold the laws of Atlantis?"

"I swear, for no one is above the law."

"To protect her people, from all threats, and put their safety above all selfish ambition?"

"I, Lord Kozmotis of the house Pitchiner swear to be victorious in war and vigilant in peace. I swear to protect Atlantis and her people, if need be with my life, so no harm may come upon them, as long as I draw breath."

"Then rise, as High General of the Seas, Lord of the Golden Fleet, and Great Protector of Atlantis!"

Even as he rose, the hall behind him broke out in jubilation, to an almost deafening degree. Kozmotis couldn't help but feel proud, almost light-headed. Not in his wildest dreams had he imagined such a moment.

Lord Pisces offered him his new weapon of office, a scimitar, the blade itself emerging from two horse heads, which back to back formed the upper part of the hilt. The scabbard was white with silver dress plates. "May this sword help you defend the righteous and slay the wicked."

Kozmotis took the weapon, and drew it, seeing that on the blade a few lines had been engraved: _In War Victory,_ and on the other side, _In Peace Vigilanc_e. He smiled and put it back, before he fastened it at his side with the attached white belt.

"Light the flame, so it may burn until your duties end." Solar explained, and gave him a small torch.

With it, Kozmotis climbed the last stair to the altar, and then threw it into the basin. Instantly a tall flame rose, flickering briefly before stabilizing. The Archpriest then added a powder, and for a few seconds the flame turned yellow with green sparks. In this small timeframe, the old man spoke his words of blessing. "Blessings of the divine upon you, High General. May they favor you in battle, and the winds and currents your ships. Long may you protect us."

"Never shall I fail in my duties." Kozmotis replied, according to tradition. Now, for the first time, three of the most powerful men in the realm bowed before him. This was a day, he'd never forget.

...

The following celebration lasted the entire day and through the night, the streets illuminated by fires and the colorful lanterns. Much laughter and singing could be heard, plenty of food and wine consumed, though Kozmotis was kept busy by all who wished to talk with him, among them Nereus. Captain Scorpio was dressed in bronze and black, a thoughtful look on his face. "Now this," He began. "Is something I did not expect."

"I still only half-believe it myself."

"And there I thought we efficiently jeopardize our reputation. So, you've talked with the wizards? I assume you're still holding on to your prison idea." He asked with a questioning look on his face.

"Yes, I rather have it and not need it, just in case." Kozmotis' tone made it clear he was unyielding in that matter.

"Not the worst policy. Certainly better than anything Amyntas Leo would have come up with. He'd have us search the open sea for their hideout until we starve."

"I thought we were not to speak ill of the dead?"

Nereus lifted a corner of his mouth. "Maybe I had a little too much wine."

Kozmotis looked at the goblet, filled to the rim. "Yes, of course." He added with a knowing smile.

Nereus's expression then turned serious and rather grim, it even seemed as if some color left his face. "Actually I came to tell you something important. Just this morning we received a bird from the outer islands; they have spotted black ships."

"Why wasn't I told?" His formerly good mood was washed away by sudden anger.

"The Ceremony. To these politicians that's priority, and before you think of doing anything now, you may want to remember that everyone is getting wasted as we speak. I advise you to call for your captains tomorrow, when their heads are a little clearer."

"What island sent the message?"

"Hesperos. They claimed the ships came from the north-west."

"The currents are going to force them south-east to Callias and then Elpis. Thank you, Nereus."

He bowed his head. "My pleasure; besides now I'm your subordinate."

Kozmotis frowned at those last words, considering how much 'advise' Nereus had given him. "You might want to try at being more convincing at it."

"Apologies, I will try harder in the future." The slightly sarcastic undertone was not lost to Pitchiner.

"Good to know." He said regardless. "If you excuse me, I have to find Archmage Shalazar."

* * *

Ombric decided that he didn't enjoy travelling by ship; the constant rocking by the waves, the salty smell of the wood, and living among men who couldn't properly wash themselves for days. At least he'd been given one of the two cabins onboard the High General's trireme. Right now he was trying to create a rune pattern for the eventual prison, something he had already started with Trismegistus, which ought to hold the shadows indefinitely. There was a knock at his door, and the newly promoted High General Pitchiner entered, wearing similar attire as at the ceremony, though the jacket had been replaced by one made of leather stripes.

"I hope I am not interrupting, Archmage. But we will soon arrive at Callias."

Ombric turned his chair around and offered the other in his cabin to his Lordship. "Not at all." The wizard assured him. "And I have given much thought to the nature of these Dream Pirates. I think we can safely assume there can only be a limited number of these shadows."

"How so?" Pitchiner asked leaning back in his chair, placing one hand against his chin.

"Well, for one thing, people can only be afraid of so many things, and it would take a great amount of fear, a strong believe in it, to create something substantial. An individual fear of one person, of let's say another who wants him harm, is too weak, other than something like the fear of death, which is universal."

"So when enough people share a certain fear, the give it form." The High General concluded.

With a smile Ombric nodded. "Essentially, yes. It is quite similar to magic, where the focused thought and will allow us to manipulate our surroundings, while with the shadows it is emotions."

"Which would also mean we're correctly assuming that killing them will not be permanent."

"Indeed. I have meant to ask, Lord Pitch; we received the message from Hesperos almost a week ago, can we still make it in time to Callias?"

"We can only hope, I'm afraid."

...

Ash rose from around his feet, whenever he put them back on the ground. Mournful, Ombric Shalazar looked around him, his gaze wandering over the burned out ruins of houses, the white stone, turned grey and black, occasionally painted with sprayed blood. Trembling he stopped at the agora; it seemed most of the citizens had fled here. Countless bodies lay here together, all these people having been killed as they cowered in fear, mothers holding their children in the vain effort of keeping them safe.

Captain Scorpio walked past him, his face grim, angry even and he knelt next to a young woman with her son and daughter in her arms. Faintly, he could hear the captain whispering a prayer.

"Horrible, isn't it?" Ombric saw over to Lord Pitch, who now stood beside him, the expression in his face shaped by great sorrow, yet is voice remained clear.

"All my life I have spent on Atlantis, kept busy with my studies. Never before have I seen a battlefield for myself."

"This is not a battlefield." Pitchiner corrected him, his fists clenched, nostrils flaring. "What happened here was a slaughter of defenseless citizens, and I fear they have not been the last. We need to get to Elpis as fast as possible."

Scorpio stood up again, and turned to the High General. "With all due respect, Lord Pitch, but even if we follow them now, the island might already be destroyed by the time we get there. We should warn close by islands, and prepare a defense there."

Scorpio was rendered silent by an icy look from his superior. "And leave Elpis to it fate? No, while we'll send out warnings, you will bring the ships to Elpis with all speed. I will take the Anicetus route with my own."

"Milord, your ship will be destroyed by the reefs…"

"That's why I will take only my ship, captain. What happened here is not going to happen to Elpis." Kozmotis then addressed Ombric. "Archmage, it would be your decision if you want to stay on my ship or travel with captain Scorpio."

"If your ship is really the only one still capable of making it in time, I will stay with you, Lord Pitch."

Pitchiner nodded, while Scorpio looked displeased; he probably now considered them both crazy. Even though he'd never travelled before, Ombric had heard of this infamous current, Anicetus, responsible for destroying many ships. Not even a handful had ever made it through, and while it was charted now, trying to navigate past the underwater reefs was still dangerous, so it was never used. This time at least it did seem worth the risk.

...

A few hours later Shalazar was regretting his decision. The currents speeded them up, and Lord Pitch's steering almost threw him from one side of the ship to the other. Not a few sailors had tied themselves to their posts, and the wizard was tempted to do the same, though for now he was clinging to the railing. Suddenly the ship seemed to stay on its side, and Kozmotis threw the helm around, causing the vessel to fall back. Ombric spat out saltwater. The damn taste wouldn't leave his tongue for hours. The High General had relieved the helmsman for this route, and was among the handful still on their feet. He actually appeared to be enjoying this, an excited grin on his face, and unshaken determination in his eyes; it was rather unnerving, but as long as he got them through safely. By the divines, how long would that take?

Abruptly the ship was shaken, and Ombric's heart sank when someone scream they were hit. The joy left the General's face, and he ordered to close the leakage. Ombric staggered up to the helm. "How far is it?" He called, over the deafening sound of the current and crashing waves.

"Not far." Lord Pitch answered him, throwing the helm around once more, and the wizard fought for his footing, but the wet floor was not making it easy. "It should only be a few more miles."

After what felt like an eternity the ship slowed down. Carefully looking over the railing, Ombric saw that the waves had calmed down, and he sighed in relive.

"That wasn't so bad." Lord Pitch said, though he had broken a sweat.

"Let's not try that again shall we?" The wizard replied, before looking over to a landmass in the distance. Already he could make out buildings, and thankfully there was no smoke like on Callias. "It would seem we are first to arrive."

"The Dream Pirates will be here shortly, I'm sure. We won't have long to prepare a defense."

...

The sun was painting the sky deep red and the few clouds orange that evening. News of the coming black ships had reached Elpis some time ago, and most of those with ships at their disposal had fled, while the remaining citizens were now stranded at their own homes. Windows had been barricaded, some abandoned houses looted, others even trying to steal from those who were still there; the fear was driving the people against each other. Kozmotis however still received a warm welcome, the sight of Atlantis' greatest warship giving them hope, despite two black ships closing in from the north.

For the battle, Kozmotis had divided his men, half with his new first officer on the ship to keep one pirate vessel from reaching the island, the other half on land, where he and the Archmage had taken position. Ombric was making his own preparation on the broad stony coastline, burning symbols into the rock in a wide circle around him with his staff. Suspicious, the soldier had all backed off, leaving Kozmotis alone with the wizard.

"May I ask what this is?"

"A spell, actually a variation of one we plan to use for the prison, though this is meant to be lethal." Ombric explained, finishing off the last rune.

"Should we stay back?" He asked worried, seeing them glow ever so dimly.

"It shouldn't hurt, anything but the shadows."

This was hardly reassuring. "Shouldn't?"

The mage seemed however confident, and spoke calmly. "There is always room for errors, but I didn't become Archmage without knowing how to avoid or minimize them."

Kozmotis decided that it would be better to leave some space between him and the circle. Then they waited. It was only a few minutes, but they felt like hours. His men had formed orderly lines behind their General, as they watched the Atlantian ship engaged the enemy, yet Kozmotis was confident his men would prevail. Most onboard had already fought the Dream Pirates, and knew what they had to expect. The second black ship ignored the Atlantians however, keeping its course. It had almost reached the island, and like before, no one could be seen on deck. Kozmotis drew his sword, and heard hundred more behind him. Only a few meters separated the dark vessel from land.

Out of a man's shadow to his left, Kozmotis saw a fearling jumping up, blade piercing through the soldier's chest. More and more reached the island by the same means, everywhere blades clashed against blades. Kozmotis' sword went right through a shadow, before it had completely manifested, just when the ship itself arrive. Only now the main force launched its attack. It was unnerving how silent they were, no rustling of armor or weapons, not even steps could be heard, when more than a hundred Dream Pirates stormed the island. Mere seconds later, Kozmotis found himself in the thick of battle, his silver blade cutting to the humanoid shapes with ease. The fearlings fought more like animals, no tactic just throwing themselves at their foes.

The General had briefly glanced over to Ombric, whose rune circle was glowing brightly, a halo of foggy light moving around him. Whenever a shadow came near him, the wizard lashed out with his staff, and the halo would follow and stretch out, until it hit its target, dispersing it. Suddenly there were screams from the town behind them. Some fearlings must have gone through, jumping from shadow to shadow.

The wizard looked over to Kozmotis, who nodded, before having to turn his attention back to the fight, another Pirate going for his throat with a black saber. From the corner of his eyes the General could see Ombric make for the town, the halo no longer around him, as it was likely bound to the runes upon the stone. Just before impact, Kozmotis stopped the saber from splitting his skull.

"Human, do you remember me?" The shadow hissed amused.

"Should I?" Kozmotis snarled back, pushing its blade aside, then quickly slashing out but missing by mere inches.

It attacked again, and they locked blades, his face now close to the shifting, clean black surface of the Nightmare Man's oval head. It was chilling. "You questioned me, right before the other human ordered the destruction of my flesh." The only facial feature, its white eyes, lit up for just a second.

Kozmotis had too much adrenaline rushing through his veins, as to be bothered by this revelation. He had already assumed the shadow from back then still existed. "You cannot be killed, am I right?"

"Not forever, little human. Not as long as you fear; and there will always be fear." It seemed to relish the thought.

"Your attacks against us will never succeed."

"Won't they? They word is spreading, even now. We can feel the fear in the air. It grows with each day."

A grim smile formed on Kozmotis lips. "Not when I give word of your defeat, Shadow."

"Meaningless." It hissed. "We do not die, we do not age, we only return."

"Take your time with that." With one clean cut, he split the Dream Pirate in two. Even while it faded, he could have sworn he heard cruel laughter, faint but vicious like in his nightmare weeks ago.

...

The Dream Pirates were defeated before the last light of day was gone. Once more their ships faded away, after the last was destroyed. Ombric himself had hunted down those that had escaped into the town, and caused panic among the people. Thankfully there had only been a handful of casualties, and Ombric had his specimen for examination. Despite inferior numbers, Kozmotis' own force was mostly intact, though everyone had suffered injuries, most had received them in the first seconds of battle, when the shadows had the advantage of surprise on their side.

An hour after the battle, the five remaining ships of his fleet finally arrived. Nereus seemed surprised but relieved to see Kozmotis, being particularly appreciative that Elpis had been saved. The people themselves couldn't have been more grateful, taking care of the wounded, and offering more food than the soldiers could consume. Some presented them with gifts, mostly jewels and valuable spices, imported from all over the world, all which Kozmotis refused to accept as politely as he could. Most baffling to him however had been an incident, where a woman had thrown herself to her knees before him, taken his hand and kissed it, thanking him with tears in eyes.

For two days they stayed, giving the men time to rest, and Ombric to test spells on the prisoner, until Kozmotis sent the fleet to return to their harbors, Nereus returning to Atlantis to give an early report, while Pitchiner and Shalazar would continue to visit an uninhabited island, one which seemed suitable to house imprisoned shadows.

* * *

There was no question as to why this small island had remained deserted for so long. It was basically a single mountain that rose from the sea, the little vegetation there was were crippled trees and patches of grass. One could probably walk around the island in about one to two hours. There was a headland, ideal for docking with ships though.

"Dismal place, isn't it?" Ombric said, letting his gaze wander over the island.

Seeing as the future inmates claimed to be fear itself, they probably appreciated a place like this. "I don't think our prisoners will mind." Kozmotis noted.

"Given that the caverns are still here."

"Time to find out."

Kozmotis and Ombric led a small party, following a natural path up the mountain. About a hundred and fifty meters above sea level there was a broad plateau, from which they could overlook half the island and down to the coast, where ships lay at anchor. And in the mountain was a wide opening. It was almost fifteen meters high and thirty broad, leading deep into the stone. The men lightened several torches, while Ombric pulled out a small crystal, which started glowing in a soft white, after he'd mumbled a few words. The cavern was filled with stalactites and stalagmites, the dipping of water coming from all sides, the more the further they went. The cavern slowly turned into a tunnel with twists and turns for about five hundred meters, before it simply ended with a solid stone wall, which the water had washed smooth. At this point the tunnel had shrunken to such scale that Kozmotis had needed to crouch. Nowhere along the way had other tunnels deviated from the cavern.

Once they returned to the more hall-like part, the General turned to Ombric. "Will it suffice?"

"If anything the space is gracious. However, I would put a wall where the cave begins to narrow. The runes I will use must be close enough so they can create an impenetrable barrier. If I put some at the end of the tunnel the barrier will be too far stretched and weakened."

"That would make to prison roughly about two hundred meters long, fifteen high and thirty broad. Plus housing at the front for guards."

"With the runes, no guards will be required; the shadows won't be able to touch the walls from within or without. Even if they tried to free those imprisoned here, they could not open the door."

"What about the cracks? The water must be coming from somewhere."

"As long as I put the runes close enough to each other it won't matter. Only a wide opening like the entry itself or a door would disturb the integrity."

"And how do we get them in, if we can't even open a door."

"Any sage with the proper knowledge can cast the shadows into the prison, and keep the barrier intact while the door is opened. Since at least one sage will accompany each ship anyway, that shouldn't be a problem." He smiled reassuring at the General. "Worry not, Lord Pitch. Trismegistus and I have accounted for everything; I corrected the few uncertainties we had, after I examined the Dream Pirate, and we will go over the incantations again upon my return. As long as you build the prison, we can make it last."

Kozmotis nodded; he had to trust the Archmages and the guild. Without them this prison would be useless, and the shadows would haunt this world possibly forever.

* * *

The following months remained surprisingly peaceful. Perhaps following their defeats, the Dream Pirates laid low to plan their next offensive, now that there was actual resistance they could not simple overrun by causing fear and panic. Only occasionally fishermen reported seeing black ships on the horizon, or went missing without a trace, and merchants told about raided villages along the main land's coast. It was estimated that over sixty hamlets and towns had been destroyed, and so even though Kozmotis was thankful for the temporary peace the kingdom enjoyed, he felt for the innocent that had been slaughtered. He'd like nothing better than to put a stop to the Shadow Pirates pillaging, but he needed the prison to be finished.

Finally, three months after his initial visit to the prison island, Kozmotis stood again on the plateau, but instead of a natural cavern he looked upon a front of grey marble. The front building had a rather flat gabled roof, the supporting columns kept lean and simple. A pair of heavy double doors bared the way inside, made of cold grey steel, and the Atlantian Tree upon it. The inside was very basic as well. A table with two benches, a small shelf with scrolls, another for comestible goods, the latter close to a fireplace. There was a door to the right, leading to the bedroom. Kozmotis' eyes however were fixed on the steel door straight ahead. It really looked like a simple door, except for the engraved pentagram; a protective and sacred symbol for longer than any sage could remember. In the circle surrounding the star, several runes had been engraved, and if one looked closely enough they actually glowed dimly.

"The enchantments will last for centuries." Ombric spoke, breaking the silence. "But we will make at least annual revisals to make sure nothing escapes."

"You have my gratitude, and that of Atlantis, Archmages." Both Trismegistus and Ombric bowed. "May this prison help us end the threat of shadows, not just for us, but for all who have suffered under their terror."

Captain Aries spoke up. "Does this mean we'll go into the offensive?"

"And go where?" Pitchiner asked in return, rendering the captain mute. "Without knowing where they're from, other than the open sea, unfortunately all we can do is wait for them to come to us, which they will. Whenever you encounter them in the future, make sure to take as many prisoners as possible, and bring them here without delay."

The present captains saluted. "By your orders, High General."

* * *

The hawk had barely taken to the skies, when Kozmotis rushed down the tower again. In this crucial time he'd wanted to stay on Atlantis if at all possible, and he trusted his captains in holding off the Dream Pirates' attacks for a while without him, especially as their frequency had lessened greatly. The priestesses had been in his house for a few days now, standing ready for when the time came. Which it had today; he was going to be a father. His feelings were a mix of happiness, excitement and great concern, even a touch of fear he admitted to himself, as he made his way back to his wife. He was stopped at the door o his own bedroom by one of the priestesses, wearing a sleeveless, long white robe.

"I'm sorry, Milord. But I must ask you to remain outside; a man is not allowed to be around a woman while she gives birth."

Kozmotis had never been a religious man, and Amina was certainly not a religious woman; she was far too skeptical. Had the Archpriest himself not sent these two sisters to act as midwives, Kozmotis probably would have thrown them out at this point. This custom was ridiculous, but some god at some point had apparently decided that only women could be around women at birth. It led Kozmotis to the assumption that the priest, or whoever had writing this down, had been a man with weak nerves or hadn't liked getting his hands dirty, so needing a reason to have a sister do his work for him.

Despite wanting to protest, Lord Pitchiner complied. "Then I'll be waiting here."

...

For hours Kozmotis paced in front of the bedroom on the first floor. Behind them, Amina laid in labors, and he had listened to her cries all this time. It irked him that all he could do was to wait and hope for the best, to trust into the abilities of the priestesses. At dusk Lykos, who had been the recipient of the hawk, finally arrived, and he rushed up the staircase, almost tripping over his own feet.

"Am I too late?" He gasped out of breath.

Kozmotis reply was rather unjoyous. "Seeing as I'm still out here, what do you think?"

"Sorry. You seem a little on the edge."

"If you had been out here, and had to listen to your beloved crying in pain for hours, you'd be a little tense yourself." Kozmotis snapped, harsher than intended, but then took a deep breath and sighed. "I'm sorry." He added a lot calmer.

Lykos lifted his and, as if to stop him. "Don't mention it."

"I suppose your parents won't be joining us?" It wasn't really a question, if he was honest.

"No; they expect that you will present them their grandchild." Kozmotis rolled his eyes and turned back to the door, rubbing his cold hands. Just a few seconds later Amina screamed particularly loud, making her husband cringe, and her brother clench his fists. "How long has this been going on?"

"Almost six hours." Kozmotis told him grimly. He had to fight himself not to storm through the door, though every fiber of his body wanted him too. His muscles felt tense, as if he was in battle.

Lykos put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You must calm down; the priestesses are by her side, and they know what they're doing."

"Still, I hate to be kept outside. I should be there for her."

"Lord Pitch: High General of the Seas, Plight of shadows…and his greatest concern is holding his wife's hand."

"Would you rather have me not care for Amina?"

"Far from it…I was merely joking. Unsuccessfully, as it seems."

"No argument." Both turned their heads and froze at a new sound; the cries of a baby. Kozmotis mouth had gone completely dry, his heart having jumped to his throat. The next few minutes seemed to last forever, before finally the door opened.

One of the priestesses stepped out and bowed with a warm, but tired smile on her aged face. "My Lord; your wife and child await you."

For a brief moment Kozmotis hesitated despite himself, but then rushed through the door. Amina had been brought to the bed, where she now laid, sitting upright with her back against a pillow. She looked exhausted but happy, her cheeks blushed, and smiling even before she saw him. In her arms, Amina was holding a small bundle. He slowed down once he'd reached the bed, and as the second priestess stepped aside, sat down next his beloved.

"Would you like to hold your daughter?"

Very slowly and carefully he took the bundle into his arms, his eyes fixed on the small round face of his baby girl. Her tiny fists, which she was holding just underneath her chin, were clenched. Kozmotis smiled at her softly as he cradled her, and allowed himself to lean against the same pillow as his wife. The child looked up at them, with something he could only describe as confusion. When Kozmotis touched one of her tiny fists with a finger, she immediately grabbed it, holding on to it tightly. He chuckled amused, and Amina laid her head against his shoulder. "Beautiful, isn't she?"

"Gorgeous." He whispered back, not taking his eyes off his daughter. "Our Aemilia Ioanna."

"Quite a long name we've chosen."

"Well, we can always use the abbreviation." Kozmotis reminded her. "Emily."

* * *

**Authors Note:**

**Characters from the original books: **Kozmotis Pitchiner, Lady (Amina) Pitchiner, Emily Jane Pitchiner, Ombric Shalazar, Tsar Lunar, Dream Pirates/Fearlings/Nightmare Men

**Translations/Names: **

**Emily's name**: In the book the daughter of Pitch is called Emily Jane, and as I was writing I've noticed that between all my Greek inspired names, an English one just stands out. So not wanting to actually change the name, I looked for different versions, or the origins, and turns out there is a Roman version for Emily=Aemilia and an ancient Greek for Jane=Ioanna. In future chapters, people other than her parents will almost exclusively call her by those. In future stories, which will concern the other Guardians, I will more and more use Emily Jane, as we approach modern times.

**Trismegistus**: Inspired by the likely fictional Egyptian sage Hermes Trismegistus, who was the purported author a series of sacred texts that are the basis of Hermeticism, and had a great influence on western mysticism.

Anicetus =unconquerable

Elpis=hope


	3. War & Family

**Chapter III**

The sea was clam that day, the three triremes making good speed on their way from a small pirate incident. For a change they had been human. Now about twenty men were chained up at the deck, physically in a rather bad shape, but not from battle, the wounds they had suffered having already been treated. Malnourishment had taken its toll on them, and their partly torn and dirty clothing made them look only more pitiable. Kozmotis Pitchiner had shown an unusual amount mercy and compassion compared to most of his captains, when he'd kept so many alive, had their wounds dressed and given them to eat. Not everyone found this commendable. Alexis Capricorn had only recently joined the High General, a rather hot-headed young man, barely out of his teens; his parents were hoping the time on a warship would teach him respect and calm his character. Kozmotis was already considering his transfer to another ship. He wasn't quite sure yet, what captain deserved it however.

"My Lord, should we really waste our rations on this scum? They're not even Atlantian."

The boy backed off a little, when Kozmotis shot him a freezing glare with his almost hawk -like, light brown, eyes. "They're human that is all the reason **we **need. And you may want to watch what you're saying, officer."

"I just meant…, because they captured a ship and were about to attack a village." His voice gave out.

"Come with me." Lord Pitch ordered, his voice making clear he'd allow no discussion.

Capricorn followed the General to the prisoners, where they stopped next to a man, who was likely in his early twenties, his expression betraying his anxiousness. When the two officers in armor approached, he flinched, pulling his feet and legs closer to himself. Kozmotis kneeled to get on eye level. "Why have you taken to piracy?" He asked plainly.

The man was briefly confused by the question, even more by the fact that Kozmotis had spoken in his own language. "My village as suffered much in recent years. Once we were a concourse for merchants, and we counted many fishermen, who would feed our people." He shivered noticeably. "But since those shadows haunt the seas, hardly anyone dares setting sails."

"We're you afraid when you attacked our merchant, and when you came for our village?" The pirate nodded, silently, and Kozmotis got back on his feet, turning back to Capricorn.

"That hardly excuses his actions…"

"No, it doesn't, and he will be punished, spending years in prison, but we must carefully step on the fine line between justice and revenge. What he and the rest of his crew did was not motivated by pure malice but desperation. If we claim to be just, we must act accordingly, or become what we fight…or lower ourselves to its level." Capricorn didn't seem to dare to reply. "And as long as I'm High General, you will treat them with dignity, are we clear?"

"Yes, Milord." He stammered. He couldn't see that some of the crew, who'd been listening into their conversation, grinned with a certain gratification behind his back. They all had been serving under Lord Pitchiner for years, and knew his notions; even before becoming High General, he'd been known for his mercy towards his enemies. Where other captains had executed and maltreated their prisoners of war, Lord Pitchiner had treated them humanly. To his crew he remained kind and respectful, being always among the first in battle, and had their wounds treated before his own. He had their loyalty and trust, and they would have followed him anywhere.

Kozmotis left Capricorn standing by the prisoners, and moments later another officer, Nikomedes Libra, approached him instead. "Got into trouble again?" He asked, after having wiped off the grin from his face.

"Gloat all you want, I'll never grow that soft." Capricorn snapped back.

The other young man shrugged, almost indifferent. "Suit yourself, but if you don't watch it the first thing that'll happen, once you have your own ship to command, is mutiny."

There was a small pause. "Leave me be."

"Gladly." With that officer Libra left him again, and returned to helping the crew making the last repairs on the slightly damaged trireme.

* * *

It happened on their way from the prison back to Atlantis. The sun had set, leaving only a small red stripe along the horizon when the black ship appeared. During the day, one ship could have been easily dealt with, but without the sunlight, the shadows were stronger, more dangerous. From the moment of its sighting, the crew lit up every lamp they could find, and soon, all three triremes were illuminated by warm light from dozens of oil lamps, torches and candles. Even in the darkness of night, the Dream Pirates' ship was darker still, and it was heading straight for them.

Kozmotis checked the fit of his amour plates once more, readjusting the shoulder guards, which almost looked like golden, overlapping leaves. In the course of the war, the smiths had crafted an entirely new armour, including of more metal. The chest guard was now made of several, golden interlocking plates, heavier than leather but he remained just as maneuverable. The guards of his legs and forearms were golden as well, the Atlantian tree engraved upon them. The basic cloth underneath remained black, yet between them and the armor he wore a long white coat with a high collar, bordered again with gold. Whoever had designed his attire, had taken his title as Lord of the Golden Fleet quite to heart, making Kozmotis feel always overdressed. Only a sash, which secured his scimitar, was still green.

Libra and Capricorn joined him, both in full leather armour, now also including some golden ornaments, and blue cloaks that were still somewhat torn from the latest battle. The latter was holding a torch in his right hand, coloring his suddenly paled face yellow; this would be his first encounter with the shadows, and fear was written plainly in his expression. Libra on the other hand was nervous, like everyone else on the triremes, but much calmer, having been fighting this war for two years now, as Kozmotis' first officer on board this ship.

Swords and axes were drawn everywhere on the ship, eyes as much on the ship as they were on the shadows on board their own. "Many times now have we faced this enemy, and every time we've beaten them. Tonight will be no different." Lord Pitch spoke, and Libra drew his saber with a grim, humorless smile.

Suddenly there was a scream from the deck, and all turned, expecting to see the Dream Pirates. Instead something else grew out of the mast's shadow. Like tentacles, the shadows grew snaking and wavering, up the mast, corrupting the pure white sails. For minutes no one dared approach it, until it stood at the ship's center like a black tree, the surface constantly shifting as if it was made of liquid tar, and living smoke. Then everywhere upon it, pairs of cold glowing, white eyes appeared, and there was that blood freezing hissing. The black branches continued to move, to search, as the tree grew broader, and even more branches emerged, the smallest twigs like long, slender claws. Once they reached a soldier, he hacked it right off, the twig retreating a bit, before suddenly it split into two. In less than a second, they darted forward, grabbing the man. He screamed and hacked, a few others trying to help, but for every branch the cut off, two or more took its place, until they covered him completely. A fanged hole appeared in the tree, like the gorge of a monster, twisted into a cruel grin.

While this happened, Kozmotis stormed towards the shadows, Libra close behind him. "Snap out of it, all of you!" He commanded, his voice loud and powerful for all to hear. "Cut it down!" Above him, the branches were slowly creating a roof, threatening to trap them all, enclose them in darkness. Now the branches came for him, and he cut them to pieces, pressing onward, before they could grew back. The soldiers standing closest to the black tree were getting caught one by one, their screams soon muffled by the shadows. Kozmotis could see the wizard trapped in his own protective sphere of light, trying to old of the numerous tentacles forcing their way through. A handful eventually managed through, and the sphere collapsed. Four tentacles grabbed him, each holding on to a limb, and then they pulled, each into a different direction…

All of the sudden, it became a lot darker, as the shadows killed most of the lights onboard the trireme, until everything was cast in dim, orange twilight. Then the shadows released their victims, the lifeless body hitting the ground, weapons still clenched in their fists. All over the ship the tentacles retreated, and instead proceeding to create a wall of all-enclosing darkness around them. The soldiers formed circles, waiting for the next assault. "Cut that tree down!" Lord Pitch ordered, approaching it himself, eyes warily at the shadows to his side.

They barely noticed how the men they'd thought dead began to move again, rose, staggering a bit, but they all got on their feed. It eased them all only briefly. At first it looked as if they were going to join the circles, when their blades slaughtered their previous comrades, and the silence was broken by screams of surprise and pain. Kozmotis watched in horror, briefly paralyzed like everyone else. Just in time he regained his wits, when one of his men attacked him, madness and murder in his pale eyes. Shock turned into rage, and swiftly Kozmotis had deflected the sword, and stabbed right through the man's chest. The body collapsed like a puppet without strings, and from it dark smoke emerged that faded in the air. The Dream Pirates possessed his men! Disgusted and appalled Kozmotis glanced at the blood on his blade.

Pitchiner looked about him, to see that at this point half his soldiers were either dead or turned. Most seemed to find it difficult to fight their former allies and friends, and all the while, the wall of shadowy branches enclosed them more and more. Shapes appeared between them, Fearlings, watching the battle unfold, climbing along the branches like lizards. Officer Capricorn couldn't take it any longer; with his saber he frantically hacked at the branches, creating an opening through which he jumped off the ship. Not few looked like they wanted to follow him.

Before Kozmotis could give any orders, a pair of demoniacs attacked him. While he managed to defeat one, he was pushed back against the railing. Black claws grabbed him by the shoulders, and he flinched, as they went into his flesh, right beneath his shoulder guards. He delivered a strong kick, knocking the second demoniac off his feet. Kozmotis swung his scimitar over his head, dispersing the Fearling. Tonight taking prisoners was not an option. The demoniac was back, and Pitchiner grabbed him by the wrist of the hand holding the sword, led it past him as he drove his own into the man.

Even as he fought, more soldiers were taken by the shadows, emerging shortly after as their puppets. The Atlantians were isolated from each other; Kozmotis could see Libra fighting only a few meters away from him against a handful of possessed crew members, a single soldier by his side. Keeping his distance from the black wall that was now completely surrounding the ship, Kozmotis joined the battle, doing his best to ignore that his enemies now wore the faces of his crew. It had been so much simpler, when they were demonic creatures of darkness. Nonetheless he fought, each strike spraying warm blood upon him, until he could taste the sweet metallic liquid even on his lips.

His sword went through one's abdomen, cutting it wide open, as he dodged a slash going for his throat, kicked said attacker's legs away, before stabbing him through the back. In less than a second his sword was up again to meet an ax, catching it beneath the blade. Using his own like a lever, he tore it out of the man's hand, and delivered a harsh blow with his elbow against the ribcage. The demoniac gasped for air, but Kozmotis finished him off.

There was an audible cracking from the ship, and rips appeared in the decks planks. The shadows were trying to break it apart. The vessel shook and the last of the oil lamps were thrown to the floor, the burning oil igniting the wood where they hit. The shadows briefly hissed at the increased light, and quickly killed the smallest fires, casting everything back into twilight. Only three fires across the ship remained burning. The shadows along the mast began to move again, and except for the cracking fire, silence fell over the ship.

Officer Libra, had suffered a deep gash in his left leg, and was supporting the barely conscious last surviving soldier. He was covered in blood, his expression twisted by pain, as he came to his general. "Lord Pitch, we need to get off the trireme. It's going to break apart, or burn to ashes…if that thing isn't killing us first.

The central shadow no longer look like a nightmarish tree, but detached itself from the mast. The main branches turned into arm like structures, a demonic head emerged at the top, with two pairs of sharp eyes, and even more along its body. Dark spike grew out of its broad shoulder and along the spine, smaller thorns covering its entire surface. Lines of shadowy smoke rose from it, moving through the air and over the ship like feelers. It towered over the three remaining Atlantians, black fangs larger than a man's arm.

"Get off the ship, now." Lord Pitch said, eyes fixed on the shadow. "I'll stay; even if I can't stop it, I can by you and the others some time."

Libra stared at him, speechless, breathing heavy with the soldier he was supporting on his back, but then slowly nodded. With his sword he cut an opening into the wall of darkness, and threw himself into the cold ocean water, just escaping before the shadows closed behind his feet.

Kozmotis Pitchiner stood alone on the deck, the shadows surrounding him, a towering monster in front, and many smaller closing in from the sides. All of his soldiers, loyal men of Atlantis laid dead upon the wooden planks. Their blood was still dripping from his sword still as well as his armour, and he breathed heavily, as the smell of burning oil and wood reached his nose. "_Are you afraid, General?"_ The voices hissed, the giant monster lowering its massive head to him, four white eyes, glaring at him, hungrily. He didn't respond, just readjusted the grip on his sword.

"_We promise that the last thing you ever feel will be fear. Die now, submit to us, knowing that Atlantis shall soon burn. We have shown it to you already._" The nightmares, yes, he knew them well, they had returned often in the past years.

"Atlantis will not fall." Kozmotis spat, a little of his own blood now running over his lip. "Come now, shadows, and we'll finish this."

Three Fearlings attacked him at once, and swiftly his blade cut through the first, he stepped back to evade the second, while stabbing the one coming up behind him. His blade returned for the second, before it could change direction. Tonight was truly not a night for prisoners. More and more came, rushing to him from the shadows, merging out of that unholy monster, and Kozmotis lashed out to all sides, cutting and slashing anything in range of his blade. He ignored the black blades and claws, which cut through his armour and skin, his arms, legs and back soon covered with injuries, thankfully most superficial.

They tried to engulf him, slender but powerful black arms wrapping around him, cold and mercilessly. In this hopeless moment he thought of something foolish. It wasn't so much a though as an instinct, and gathering all the strength he had left, he charged at the towering monstrosity, his blade cutting silver through the darkness. He ignored the pain from dozens of wound all across his body, he ignored his heartbeat, racing in his ears. It was like he was in a trance; nothing existed but his sword and the shadow in front of him.

The General raised his sword, and with all his might, stabbed into the concentrated darkness. He gritted his teeth, reddened by blood, the countless hands and claws, grabbing at him from behind, trying to pull him away. He would not allow them to win, he couldn't allow it. They depended on him; Amina, Emily, both probably sleeping soundly at home, safe because he was here. Kozmotis Pitchiner drove his weapon deeper, until his hands were submerged in the shadowy mass, and with a dried up throat, he shouted defiantly. "I WILL NOT SUBMIT!"

It was not the lack of fear that destroyed them; it was his bravery, channeled by his enchanted blade, his willingness to stand against them despite his fear, and to sacrifice it all, for in the end that is the true opposite of dread.

…

They found him unconscious, lying on a piece of swimming wood, one of the few pieces left of the once greatest ship of the Golden Fleet. The Dream Pirates had disappeared without a trace, as they always did. Libra himself got him out of the water and brought him back to the remaining two triremes. The General had lost plenty of blood, and suffered many wounds, and as relived as the remaining Atlantians were to see him alive, their hopes were dimmed by his grave conditions. Another sage and a healer of the priesthood took care of him, but he remained unconscious for two days straight. When he awoke, he was weak, and still in pain…and tired. His sleep had been restless, at least for his mind, though he never spoke of it. Only days later he would share his thoughts with Amina, for she could always tell when he was troubled, and knew best how to comfort him. Kozmotis thought himself most fortunate to have her by his side. To have been forced to kill his own men, and then to accept death left his thoughts racing, and tore at his soul. For days he wouldn't even touch his sword or even look at it, much less wear it as usual at his side. It took several days for him to get back into shape, the process greatly accelerated by magic. Almost two weeks after the battle, he was physically back to his normal self, when they finally reached Atlantis.

* * *

A long staircase ran alongside the Pitchiner mansion, in its shape reminiscent of a drawn-out '2'. It let from the atrium in the first floor down into the garden, specifically to a circular platform, the terrace, surrounded by a pound. Tree branches reached over the water, and as it was spring, the fresh, green leaves were accompanied by blossoms, pale pink and yellow among the most common. Kozmotis was walking down the staircase, after having exchanged his chest guard, for a light, sleeveless robe over his black shirt. His gaze went searching, and he smiled, when it reached the platform. A young girl with wavy hair, night black like himself, stood there, hands reaching for the butterflies, flying between the trees. She wore a white dress, with a green cloth as a belt, fist already stained by brown and green stripes; she'd probably climbing trees again.

He had almost reached her, when she turned around, a wide smile spreading instantly on her face, until it went from ear to ear. "Father!" She exclaimed, beaming with joy, and running to him.

Returning her smile he spread his arms. "Come here." Kozmotis caught her, lifted her up, and spun them around once, making her giggle, before her embraced her, her arms around his neck. For a second or so, he felt like never wanting to let her go again. "I missed you, sweetie." He told her, an understatement to say the least, one hand on her back, while letting her sit on his other arm. "How have you been?"

"Thymos offered to teach me how to ride, but mother forbad it." There was disappointment in her voice.

"A Pitchiner, who doesn't know how to ride a horse?" He asked her with a playful frown. "We can't have that. How would you like it, if I taught you myself tomorrow?"

"Oh yes, please, father!" She begged him.

Kozmotis laughed, and put her down again. "Now what were you doing down here?"

"The butterflies; I wanted to see if I could catch one, but they always elude me."

"You must let them come to you." He told her, and sat down on the ground. Admittedly he was somewhat exhausted from the latest journey, and he desperately wanted his mind away from the memories of his most recent encounter with the Dream Pirates. He leaned back a bit, holding himself up with both arms, hands on the ground just behind him. Aemilia sat down in his lap, leaning against his chest, and he told her to hold her hands out, palms showing. It wasn't even a minute when the first bright orange butterfly began to circle above her hands. Kozmotis tilted his head ever so slightly down, his chin almost touching the top of her head, as both had their eyes fixed on the little insect. It landed briefly on one of Aemilia's finger, flapped with his wings a few times, before taking to the air again. Smiling she turned her head around to her father, just as a voice reached them from the stairway.

"May I join you?" Amina asked softly.

"Mommy."

Smiling gently, Kozmotis offered his wife a hand, and guided her to sit next to them. Once she sat, they kissed lovingly, something he had missed in his weeks out on the sea. Aemilia, seeing this, narrowed her eyes and stuck her tongue out as if nauseated, only to be pinched playfully by her mother, who smiled cheekily against Kozmotis' lips. He couldn't help but chuckle a little; it was so good to be home again.

…

Amina walked into their bedchamber that night, after having brought Aemilia into bed. She stopped in the doorway, and looked worried at her husband. He stood with his back to her, mostly undressed but still in trousers and boots. In his hands he was holding the blade once given to him the day he'd been made High General. He pulled it halfway out of its scabbard, just so far that he could read the words upon the blade. His body language was tense, and Amina could see the muscles along his back contract. Very silently, she closed the door behind her, and walked over to him. Despite hearing her, he didn't turn around.

"What happened out there?" Amina asked worriedness in her voice. "I dared not asked while Emily was still up."

He let the blade glide back into the scabbard. "On our way home we encountered Dream Pirates." Came his response after a few moments of silence. "They attacked us at night, as they usually do these days. We prepared and waited for their attack, it…it was not like anything I've ever seen, or expected." She ran a supportive have over his right arm up to his shoulder. "The shadows rose from out of our midst and engulfed the ship. Not Fearlings and Dream Pirates, but something closest to a demonic tree, with countless branches like tentacles. They captured several of my men, trapping them in darkness." Kozmotis shuddered. "They all were returned, but changed; they attacked us, killed their former comrades."

"Kozmo." Amina gasped, feeling the blood leaving her face.

"I didn't know what else to do, and we fought them. More and more were turned, until only three of us remained. I sent them away, and stayed behind to face the shadows. They had merged into a monster towering over me like a giant." His voice became quieter. "I don't know how but somehow I defeated them, and I awoke on another trireme two days later." Kozmotis threw his head back, and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "I slaughtered my own men, men I led into battle for years, who followed and trusted me." He let the scimitar slip from his grasp onto the bed, and Amina saw his hands trembling.

"You didn't have a choice; they would have killed you and anyone else in their path. There was nothing else you could have done." She tried to reassure him. "You defeated the shadows, did you not?"

"But how can I forgive myself?" He asked, lowering his head again to look her in the eyes, his own reddened.

Amina framed his face with her hands, and then leaned her forehead against his. "I forgive you." She whispered, but loud enough that he could hear her. He took her by the wrists, and lovingly kissed one of her palms.

…

The next day Kozmotis and Amina attended the funeral ceremony for the fallen soldiers. Thousands had come, and all banners had been removed from the streets. In the end Kozmotis had gone to the bereaved of those he had been forced to kill. He stood before them, went down to his knees, and placed his forehead on the ground between his hands. He bowed before them in utter humility. A High General of Atlantis bowed before common people; such a thing had never happened before, and it left all who saw, or later heard of it, stunned. He gave them his most deeply felt apologies, unseen to them a single tear running down from his eyes, and asked them for their forgiveness. For a long time no one spoke, or dared to move.

Slowly a woman stepped from the crowd, her own tears still drying on her youthful face. "Lord General Pitchiner." She began, quietly but strong, and thanks to the utter silence audible for everyone around. "There is nothing to forgive. Our husbands, brothers and fathers had been taken by the shadows. You were not responsible for their deaths; if anything, I believe, you have spared them suffering, and delivered them from a fate worse than death." If anyone thought differently, he or she didn't voice those thoughts, then or ever.

At the woman's kind words, Kozmotis, who still bowed, had shut his eyes tightly, fighting the tears once more, but this time tears of gratefulness.

* * *

A several days later, shortly before Kozmotis would have to set sails again, he brought his daughter to a small building at the sea. One had to ride downhill from the villa for about five to ten minutes, on food it would probably take around twenty, and it stored one of Kozmotis' favorite toys. Just a few years ago he'd commissioned a special craft, which he'd designed along with an old friend of his. This vessel was a catamaran. With two slim hulls, joined by two crossbeams, a single mast in the middle of the front crossbar, and one triangular sail controlled by sailor, it was likely one of the fasted human made vessel on water. It was designed for one person, but Kozmotis had no doubts that he could take someone as light as Aemilia with him.

She had not yet seen the catamaran before, but her face lit up when she did. While he took his place at the rear crossbar, the ropes which allowed him to control the sail in his gloved hands, Aemilia got a place and the bamboo-network, covering the square between the hulls and crossbars. With another cord he secured her to the vessel, so she wouldn't fall off during the turns.

"Why can't I stand?" She protested.

"Because then you'd have nothing to hold on too, and I need room to steer." He smiled at her friendly. "One day, if you like, I'm going to show you how to drive it, but for your first time, you'll have to sit tight."

"You will teach me?"

Kozmotis winked mischievously. "When your mother isn't looking."

The first meters were slow, as he brought the catamaran into position. Kozmotis pulled at one of the robes, and the triangular sail moved into position. It then caught the wind, inflated suddenly, and the hulls' fonts briefly sunk deeper into the water, but came right up again. With great speed, the vessel flew over the calm water, almost taking off as it seemed. Aemilia held on to the netting with both hands, her hair wildly fluttering behind her head. She needed to close her eyes somewhat, and water was spraying all around her, soon drenching her clothing. How she couldn't care less.

Kozmotis stayed close to the coast, trying to get maximum velocity, more than happy when he heard his daughter laugh and scream with joy. He bent his knees, to turn the sail a bit sharper, and the catamaran tilted to the side, one hull now complete lifted from the water, until the vessel was nearly completely on its side. Aemilia yelped, clinging even tighter to the netting. Kozmotis stood upon the lifted hull, and brought it back down, after completing the turn.

"Can you do it again?!" His daughter shouted.

…

Meanwhile Amina bound a little scroll to a hawk's ankle, the light brown feathered bird looking at her with intelligent golden eyes. Gently she stroked the soft white chest, as she carried the bird to one of the windows of the tower, and it readjusted its claws on the leather glove. The hawk looked out said window after she opened it, and spread its wings. For a while Amina remained at the window to watch it fly. She was about to turn back, and climb down the tower, when she saw a familiar boat sailing along the coast.

Annoyed, and harshly she removed the leather glove. Hadn't he told her they would go for a ride? Maybe it had been a little naïve of her to think he'd meant horses. "Bastard; he's going to get them both killed."

While never having sailed with the catamaran herself, Amina knew how difficult to control it was. With a certain smug amusement she'd watched Kozmotis capsize time and time again. But with their daughter on board, and the strong currents just offshore? Quickly, Amina ran down the stairway, and once she was back in the main building told a servant to get her horse ready.

…

Soon Kozmotis headed back to the boathouse, both him and Aemilia drenched in seawater. His black hair, usually styled back to come out as slick spikes from the back of his head, now stuck to his skin, as did his clothing. With a wide grin on her face, Aemilia watched him anchor the catamaran, wringing out some water out of her shirt.

Once he'd finished, Kozmotis wiped a strand of hair out of her face. "So, you'd like to go sailing again one day?" Given that he would return again. Quickly he banished the thought; this day was far too blissful as to be ruined by such dreadful thoughts.

She nodded excited, and Kozmotis helped his daughter on her horse, when he spotted another rider in the distance, coming from the mansion. He narrowed his eyes in the effort to see better, and saw that it was Amina. And she was wearing her hunting attire. "Emily dear, why don't you go back home." He suggested. "Daddy needs to run away from mommy real quick."

With that being said, he jumped on his own horse, a black stallion called Aclippe, and fled the scene. A few moments later Amina passed her daughter. "Emily, go home now." She said, gone as quick as she'd come, going after Kozmotis. There had been a quiver at her saddle.

Worried Aemilia returned home to find Thymos, the servant in charge of taking care of the horses, in the stables. "Is mommy going to kill daddy?" She asked him, as he helped her get of her horse.

"It would seem so." The servant responded in dry, yet factual manner. "Do not worry, little lady; it would not be the first time."

In the meantime Kozmotis had gained quite a head start, but Amina followed him away from the coast uphill into the country side. Away from the meadows, the bright green and yellow grass grew almost up to one's chest, and every now and then, there were small groups of trees and shrubbery. The wind carried her husband's laughter, merry and untroubled. At first she'd been angry with him, endangering himself and their daughter like that, but the longer she hunted him the more did she find herself enjoying this. As they reached another group of trees, Amina circled around it to cut him off. She bitted her horse, and forced a surprised Kozmotis to do the same. Aclippe shied, his front legs kicking out in the air, and for a moment it looked as if Kozmotis fell off his saddle, though in actuality he'd jumped off, right before disappearing between the nearby trees. Amina followed him, leaving her horse behind as well, but taking bow and quiver with her. The green parts of his clothing made it difficult to spot him, yet the same couldn't be said for the black and white ones. She saw a glimpse of the latter.

The arrow flew through the air, and pinned the white border of his jacket against a tree. Astonished he looked at her. "I'm truly grateful you're not out of practise."

"How do you know this is not a miss?" A devious, over-the-top smile played on her lips tauntingly.

"Because you're a kind-hearted soul." Kozmotis began hopefully. "Who would never seriously harm her beloved husband."

Her smiled became kinder. "Lucky you." Amina replied as she lowered her bow, and he freed himself, breaking the arrow in two.

He threw the projectile away, before he looked at the hole in his jacket. "Was this really necessary though?"

"As if you weren't enjoying our little hunt."

Kozmotis couldn't help but chuckle at this. Back before they'd been married, they used to go hunting, just to have an excuse to be alone together. Of course actual hunting had been one of the last things on their minds. Amina put her weapon aside and walked over to him. "I was concerned; do you remember how often you've flipped that thing over before you knew how to handle it?"

"Which is why I only took Emily with me, after I'd mastered it. There is nothing to be afraid of; I've been sailing for over twenty years, and I know our coasts." He reassuringly put a hand on her cheek, stroking it gently with a thumb. "She is safe with me."

Tightly she hugged him. "Why are you doing this?" Amina asked him calmly, her voice so very soothing. "Is it because of what happened?"

He held her close to him, his fingers clenching at her question. "I thought I was going to die." He admitted, not for the first time. "I attacked it, being so damn sure it would be the last thing I do. I didn't care; all I wanted was for you both to be safe." It grew difficult to fight the coming tears. "Being here, hold you, hear your voices and laughter…you cannot imagine what it means to me. I can never be sure if I return, when I go out there, and I feel I have to make the most of the time I get to spent with you."

For a while they just stood there, holding each other. At some point Kozmotis kissed her along the neck, with her arms still around his shoulders, a hand running through his barely dry hair, and he began to open the bindings of her attire.

…

Once they returned to the mansion, the sun was already setting. Amina's hair was still a mess, despite her best efforts to bind it together, while Kozmotis kept an arm around her waist. As Aemilia asked when they would go sailing again Amina only shrugged, a tired but happy smile still on her lips.

* * *

The weather was warm and dry, mountains dominating the landscape, olive trees growing on their sides, along with light green grass. There was a small hamlet at the west side of one such mountain, and further up a small temple, somewhere in Epirus, a part north western Greece. A man, a shepherd climbed the serpentine stairs leading from the hamlet to the temple, his son by his side. The boy was maybe six years old, and looked both tired and frightened, dark rings around his eyes. The temple was dedicated to the Oneiroi, deities of sleep and dreams, especially Morpheus, Phobetor, also known as Icelus, and Phantasos; the shepherd was hoping they could help his son. At the time a single priest was tending to the temple, with a young boy in his care, who had been left at the temple stairs as a baby.

The temple itself was rather small and kept simple, made of grey stone and with little to no decoration to speak of. Already the elements were leaving marks on the roof and outer columns. Beyond the heavy wooden door was the main hall, with three statues at the far side, all barely taller than an adult. Close by, to the shepherd's right was another smaller door, leading to the living quarters of the priest. He was about to approach it when it opened, the door's hinges ever so slightly creaking as it did, and an elderly man walked into the hall. His chin long hair was white and curly, as well was his round trimmed beard, while the eyes were brown and regarded the shepherd friendly.

"How can a humble servant of the great Oneiroi help you?" The priest voice was deep and clam, mirroring the kindness of his expression.

"My son, honored priest." The shepherd explained. "For many nights now night terrors plague him in his sleep, and he grows weaker with every passing day. I beg you to beseech the gods that the merciful Oneiroi may spare him."

Slowly the elderly priest got down to the boy's eye level, and took a good look at him. His expression was that of sorrow and empathy, before it was changed by a comforting smile. "Come with me, and I prepare his treatment." The shepherd was most relieved and nodded, following the priest, known to the people of the hamlet as Eusebios, into the living quarters. It was a small and oblong room, with two beds and chairs, a fireplace and a table. "Have your son lie on this bed." Eusebios spoke, pointing at the one closest to the door, the mattress just straw covered by a piece of cloth, the pillow just large enough for a head.

"Do the gods demand a sacrifice for my son's health?" He had little, but he would gladly give one of his sheep if it was required.

The priest however shook his head. "What is needed to cure your son, we will provide gladly. My novice shall perform the rites, himself." There was some pride in those last words, and he put a hand on a boy's shoulder.

Concerned the shepherd regarded the shy, young novice that had appeared out of Eusebios' shadow. He could only be a few years older than his son, was short build, and a bit round, but the most unusual feature was the dark blonde hair, like the barbarians far north of Olympus. "This boy is to help my son?" The priest could not be serious.

Eusebios tried to appease the worried father, hands lifted defensively. "I assure you, I wouldn't trust my student with your son's health unless I was absolutely sure he could manage it. This boy is blessed by the Oneiroi; they work through him."

The father was still unconvinced, but what choice did he have? "Do what you think is best, but bring peace to my son."

"I am confident that tonight, no night terror is going to plague him. My novice and I will take good care of your son, and in the meantime, you ought to pray to Phobetor. Let him hear your pleas, and he shall be merciful."

"Thank you, honored priest. I will." With one last look to his son, the shepherd returned to the temple. Before he'd closed the door behind him, he could hear the priest speaking to his novice one more time. "Chrysos, prepare the herbs, and place them around the bed. Our patient's mind is frightened and clouded."

* * *

Autumn was coming, and the winds got harsher, while the leaves turned wine red and yellow. Just the previous day, Kozmotis had returned from another mission, and found them on the great balcony that extended from the dining room; Amina was reading, while their daughter practised her writing skills on a wax tablet. He knocked softly at the wall, making both turn their heads, Aemilia's gaze wandering to what he was holding in his hands. Quickly she was on her feet, grinning from ear to ear. "You're gonna teach me?" She asked exited.

"I promised." Her father replied, and gave her one of the wooden swords. "Why don't you go on ahead to the terrace? I'll be right there." He'd barely finished his sentence, when Aemilia stormed down the stairs, making Kozmotis chuckle a bit as he turned to his wife.

Amina, who too was standing at this point, crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Kozmo, she's a girl."

He rolled his eyes, not taking her very seriously. "You learned to use bow and arrow as a child."

"I grew up a Sagittarius; it's our signature weapon."

"So the bow is alright, but a sword goes too far?" Kozmotis asked teasingly.

She opened her mouth as if to say something, but then puckered her lips before speaking calmly. "She won't be a warrior; she'll be married to a noble one day."

"I'm not trying to turn her into a soldier." He protested. "But I have so little time with her, and if this is what she wishes to learn I will not deny it. These are the few years in her life where few duties dictate her, and in these she should be allowed to do a few foolish things, every now and then."

Suddenly Amina hugged him tightly, and he held her close. "You're spending so much time out on sea, fighting this endless war, and I am left here, fearing you might not return. All I can do is to protect her; I could not bear the thought of losing you both."

Gently he nuzzled his face against hers. "You won't, you have my word." Kozmotis assured her. "And you know it pains me not being able to spend as much time here as I'd like. I too want to protect you both, and so I must go out there. I will rest easier in those nights, knowing that you can take care of yourselves. I want to teach her, not just because she wants me to, but for my own peace of mind." He heard her sigh at his words.

"Fine, do what you must. But if she one day stabs her suitors, you will have to explain it."

Kozmotis grinned, and pulled her closer. "Deal." He whispered close to her ear. They kissed, before he followed Aemilia to the terrace.

She was already swinging her sword around with wild moves, which got her off balance and made the butterflies fly for their lives to all directions. "It is heavier than I thought." His daughter said upon his arrival.

"One day you want to hold a real sword, don't you? It is as heavy as it needs to be to make you stronger." He looked to the hilt. "Show me your grip." She held the sword in front of her, and he examined her fingers. "Hands further apart; there should be room for another between both. And don't hold it so strained, but relaxed, ease your grip."

"What if I drop it?" She asked concerned.

"Your blade will become the extension of your arm. Can you drop your arm?"

Aemilia rolled her eyes. "No."

Kozmotis smiled and nodded. "Now, straighten yourself. If you lean forward you offer your opponent your head, but as a general rule, no matter where to you angle your body, you're destabilizing yourself. It will be more difficult to react properly to your opponent's attacks, and it betrays your next move." He circled her and corrected her stand. "Let us begin. You will not be fighting like a common soldier, hacking, hammering and widely slashing. You'll be fighting swift and sudden, with skill and technique."

At first he showed her basic moves, a strike from above, and one from each of her shoulders going down diagonal, intended to slice the opponent up from neck to hip. He watched the way she held her arms and the sword, and that she stood steady. Once he was satisfied with her progress, he practised a series of moves, he attacked slowly, allowing her to block, deflect and counter. They trained for two hours straight, until father and daughter sat down at the pond, watching the butterflies, which were still keeping their distance. Aemilia was hugging her wooden sword and leaned back against her father, who was trying to ignore his aching knuckles, where she'd accidentally hit him at one point.

"Father?" She asked after a while.

"Yes, Emily?"

"Can we go sailing again?"

* * *

Chrysos was nervous; his hands cold and a bit sweaty as he tried to call himself down with a deep breath. The spicy smell of the herbs and incenses helped, and cautiously he approached the boy. His master had knocked him out with a drug, so his mind would be calm enough for what was about to come. Eusebios had spoken the truth when he'd claimed Chrysos was blessed by the Oneiroi: for as long as he could remember, Chrysos had been able to peek into the minds of others, first unintentionally, and only when they were calm, which meant either relaxing or sleeping. He'd been terrified the first time he'd suddenly seen the hopes and dreams of others. Chrysos had ran to his mentor and confessed it, but instead of being angry or frightened, Eusebios had seen it as a blessing by the gods, something to be cherished yet used with care and a great sense of responsibility. It had only confirmed and strengthened the priest's conviction that Chrysos was destined to serve the Oneiroi.

If that was true, they had also demanded a prize. Chrysos had always been mute.

Just another reason why he barely left the temple, or the surrounding area; where else would he be accepted and he was all the more thankful for Eusebios kind heart and understanding. For all intents and purposes he was Chrysos' father figure. Now Eusebios had his eyes closed and spoke prayers, and with a deep breath, the novice steeled himself before carefully placing a hand on the boy's forehead.

It was like jumping into cold water, the foreign mind defending itself against the sudden intrusion. Chrysos opened his eyes…sort of. He found himself in a dark forest, the dead trees stripped of their leaves, the sky cold and moonless. Nothing stirred, and slowly Chrysos began to walk. Somewhere around the boy had to be, at least his consciousness' perception of himself. Fog crawled over the bony roots, reaching up to the novices knees. This was all deeply troubling, as nightmares usually derived from a person's memories, things they had seen and experienced, but this was not. It was artificial, created by something or somebody else. Was Phobetor himself punishing this boy?

Eventually he found him, cowering under a tree, sobbing soundly. "Are you alright?" Only here, in the mind of others, Chrysos had a voice of his own; it would always be alien to him.

The boy jumped at the sound, and looked up with reddened eyes. "You…you're not one of them." He stammered, with just a flash of hope in his eyes. Of course he didn't recognized Chrysos, even though he'd seen the novice before being drugged. He was the manifestation of the boy's subconscious, his emotions, and basic personality given from, and right now fear was the most dominant.

"One of whom?" Chrysos asked friendly, sitting down next to the boy.

"Shadows, monsters." The boy squeaked, hiding his face behind his pulled up knees, arms wrapped tightly around his legs.

When dealing with nightmares, monsters were nothing unusual; they were the minds meaning of representing dangers, help it to deal with them. But this boy couldn't even face them, and it was Chrysos job to remedy that. "No, I'm none of them. As a matter of fact I'm here to help you get rid of them."

One of the boy's eyes reappeared from behind his arm, and glanced questioning at Chrysos. The novice had to admit that he didn't look much like a fighter, not to mention that he was a child himself. "How?"

"The gods have given me a gift; they gave me the means to defeat them. I've done it before."

"You can make them go away?" Hope was back in his eyes.

"Show me one of those monsters and you'll see." Chrysos said, offering a hand to help him stand.

The boy hesitated, but eventually took it. Together they wandered through the woods, Chrysos in front, the boy trying to keep up, his eyes frightfully turning to all directions. The first noise they heard was like the wind, and just as fleeting. Minutes later it was replaced by the hissing of a wild animal. Chrysos stopped in his tracks and looked around. The only thing moving was the fog. Suddenly there was a growl from the top of a tree, and then the novice saw it, a black figure, the upper body slim and humanoid, but no features in its face but white eyes; pale, sharp, dead. Instead of legs, shadows trailed it like lines of smoke. Long black claws were buried into the dead wood as it leaned down to get a better look at the two boys. It made Chrysos shiver, and he felt the fear running through his veins like liquid ice. This had never happened before; whenever he'd faced manifestations of fears in the mind of others before, he had not been afraid, since they hadn't been his own fears, this however…somehow Chrysos knew it wasn't something conjured by the boys own mind, but an foreign entity like Chrysos himself.

"_Another mind._" It hissed. "_So pure, so kind and noble._"

"I don't fear you, shadow!"

It laughed cold and cruel, like a murderer, trailing down the dead tree before lifting itself up in front of Chrysos like a cobra. "_But you do. I can feel it. You fear what you don't know; you fear what we might do, what we could be capable of. You fear to fail._"

"I know that you are not nightmares." He stated calmly, hiding his own anxiety. The boy counted on him.

"_No, we are more real than that. We are fear, and you little human tread on our hunting grounds._"

From the corner of his eyes, the novice could see more shadows circling them, yet keeping their distance for now. "What do you hunt?"

"_We feed of your fear, little human, for we are everything you fear._" Then he would treat it like any other fear he'd faced.

Chrysos grabbed the Fearling where the waist should have been, and it stared at him with utter shocked, its pale white eyes widening. Then with a slow, strong voice Chrysos spoke. "You are not real. You are not true. You are _nothing_." The shadowy creature shivered and twisted…it paled. In his hand the Fearling turned brighter and brighter, grew less substantial, until it was nothing but golden mist, dispersing in the air, until there was no trace of it. "Defy your fear." He told the boy. "And it won't harm you."

The remaining shadows howled angrily, and closed in. "They're so many." The boy said, holding on to Chrysos' white sleeve.

"They are nothing but shadows. Has it harmed me, when I faced it?" The boy shook his head. "And neither will you be harmed." The first shadow approached, snaking through the fog, claws in front as if to grab them. Chrysos caught it by a wrist, with a grim smile. "Be gone, you and your ilk." It tried so hard to free itself, but fared no better than the first.

"I'm still afraid." The boy told him ashamed.

"So am I; but you can fear and still believe that you can overcome it." Chrysos assured him. "Can you believe that?"

The body's gaze followed the golden mist as it disappeared in the air, and with sudden strength in his voice he said. "Yes."

...

Slowly Chrysos removed his hand from the boy's forehead, and turned to his mentor. He nodded to confirm his success, and Eusebios sighed in relive, ending his prayers. Moments later the patient awoke, looking around him confused. Already he looked healthier than a few hours ago.

"How are you feeling, young one." The elderly priest asked him friendly.

"I'm not sure." He admitted. "Better I think. There were monsters and shadows…they all turned into golden mist and…" Only now he spotted Chrysos. "I think he was there too."

"Are you still afraid to sleep?"

He shook his head. "Are they all gone now?" The boy asked hopefully.

Eusebios looked briefly over to his student. "They will bother you no more. Now let us go to your father, and tell him the good news."

Chrysos stayed behind, to put away the bowls of herbs and open a window for fresh air. He was still thinking about the shadows he'd seen. That they could invade a human mind was troubling, and somehow the young priest knew, he hadn't seen the last of them.

* * *

It was a warm autumn day, when Trismegistus wandered through the garden, surrounding the guild's towers at the palace. He wasn't alone however, a young man having joined him a few minutes ago. He was in his early teens, just a bit chubby with a friendly round face, and dressed in silver and white robes with a golden border. And he was Tsar Lunar's son. Like most noble houses the Lunars had proven great imagination, when they had named their son Tsar as well, which made differentiating between him and his father difficult sometimes. His mother Tsarina had somewhat solved that little problem, by giving her son an affectionate nickname; Badr, which in a language from the continent meant 'full moon'. Tsar Badr was already a student of the guild, showing great potential as a mage, despite his youth.

"Who's your companion?" Trismegistus looked at the young man following Tsar Badr, keeping a few meters distance. Though being obviously older than Tsar, he had a very youthful face, and was rather slender, almost skinny, yet he wore the silver armor of the house Lunar. His eyes were of a pale green, calm but attentive, while his hair was of an unusual light blond that one could almost perceive as white. Unusual for someone from Atlantis, his skin was extremely pale, and the wizard could even see some blue veins along the throat. In his right hand he held a long spear, and a short sword was fastened at his belt.

"This is my personal guard, Zopyros." Tsar Badr explained. "Ever since my father was elected a few weeks ago, he has been assigned to watch my every step."

Once more the wizard regarded the bodyguard. When the king entrusted his son's life to this young man, he must be more of a warrior than his appearance let on. At the mentioning of his name he bowed politely to Trismegistus. "So you wish to learn more about the shadows haunting our realm?" The wizard continued, changing the subject back to the young noble's original request.

"Archmage Trismegistus." Tsar Badr spoke, humbly. "I was curious as to why the Fearlings and Nightmare Men do not reach us here, when they can travel through shadows."

"We assume that they are too weak on their own. To reappear through another shadow, they probably require a certain proximity, a reason why they use ships." Trismegistus explained. "We have however observed that when two or more melt together, the resulting individual grows in strength as well. It could be possible that a certain number of merged shadows could be powerful enough to reach us here."

"Then why haven't they done so?" The young man wondered aloud.

The sages had often asked themselves the same question, and different theories had been developed over the years. "For once they are the embodiment of fear, and even if some seem remarkably human, they do not think like us. They are pure, raw instinct, simple minded predators, lethal but not blessed with imagination, for which we should be thankful. Their attacks on us have always been straight forward, no complicated tactics, so I assume they have difficulty coming up with complex scenarios, or far reaching plans."

"And the second reason?"

Trismegistus stopped at a tree, and picked an apple, hanging from one of the lower branches. He put the fruit into one of his robe's pockets before he answered, eyes lingering on the old tree. "Well, fear increases their power, it could be that they attack smaller islands first to sow dread among our people, effectively weakening us, and strengthening themselves, until they deem themselves capable of facing us here, where we are at our strongest."

"Maybe Lord Pitchiner can lock them all away before it comes to that." Tsar Badr noted hopefully.

"That would be very fortunate indeed." He removed his gaze from the tree back to Tsar, his expression stern and sorrowful. "This war, however successful costs Atlantis dearly. Almost a decade it now lasts, so many have died, and the Dream Pirates are giving us their full attention."

"Why might that be? This may sound a little insensitive, but would the rest of the world not be an easier target for them?"

Trismegistus shrugged and started walking again. "They must see our defiance as a threat; usually they would come to humans, and cause fear and panic by their mere presence, but we resist, we dare to fight; yes, perhaps with having such a powerful effect on mankind, comes a certain amount of pride as well. And maybe they are clever enough to see that we are right now the only ones on this world, capable of stopping them." He paused briefly, thinking of something his fellow Archmage had once though about. "Ombric has also once suggested that they have their own idea of a natural order; they know that every living being fears, and that defying them disrupting their worldview of sorts. Like a wrong note in the symphony of life; a mistake. And they will not stop waging war against us until that mistake is 'rectified'."

His words seemed to unsettle the young noble, who looked uncomfortable as he contemplated these ideas. "They seek to punish us?" Tsar Badr finally asked, though there was certainty in his voice.

The reply he received was kept short and simple. "A deer ought not to hunt the lion."

* * *

Amina stood and watched, arms crossed, fingers moving nervously. Ombric Shalazar had come on her request, and now he was sitting in the small private library giving tasks for Aemilia to perform. At first he'd given her a candle with a single rune cut into the wax, and told her to concentrate on fire, to think of a little flame burning the candlewick. The girl had held the candle in both hands and closed her eyes, and in less than a minute a small blue flame had begun to flicker lively.

Next she'd been given a bowl of water, and was told to freeze it. This turned out to be a little more difficult, but soon enough the water froze in fern resembling patterns. Right now Aemilia tried to levitate a rock, her expression a little twisted by her efforts and concentration. Worried, Amina looked over to Ombric; his assessment would decide how her daughter would be tutored by the guild. As she did have skills in magic, there was no way around it. An untrained mind was dangerous, not just to oneself but to others as well. There were many stories of magic users before the guild existed, who had accidentally set towns on fire, or summoned storms that had carried away trees, as a result of vivid emotions.

Finally the stone began to hover a few centimeters above the ground, and Aemilia looked to her mother, both happy and proud of herself. Amina smiled back, trying to hide her concern. "That should be enough." The elderly wizard said, and got off the chair. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Aemilia."

"You too, Lord Shalazar." She replied still smiling, and Ombric nodded as a goodbye.

Together with Lady Pitchiner he left the library. "Your daughter certainly has great talent. Her training by the guild is indispensable, and best to be begun within the year." He told her once they'd reached the corridor.

"Will she have to join the guild, and live in the capital?" Amina felt her stomach cringe at the thought; her daughter was merely a decade old.

The wizard seemed to have picked up on her worries. "No, I can have an associate tutor her here, if you'd prefer." He said, which eased her mind greatly.

"She's still a child; I don't believe she'd like leaving home so young, and I couldn't rob Kozmotis of the few days he gets to spent with her." She explained. "And I certainly can't let go of her yet."

Ombric nodded. "Understandable. Do not be concerned, Milady. She'll do fine, and I will pick her tutor myself."

They stopped, having reached the Atrium, and politely, Amina bowed. "Thank you, honored Archmage."

He returned the gesture, the tip of his beard almost touching the floor. "My pleasure, and please, if you like you may call me Ombric, same as your husband."

"Then you must address me with Amina in turn."

"That should pose no difficulty." Ombric replied smiling. "I'll send a hawk as soon as I have chosen a suitable teacher. Blessings of the divine, Amina."

"Blessing of the divine, Ombric."

He was almost out the door, when he turned around once more. "Oh, the grasshoppers have told me that there is a leopard roaming the nearby forest. I think it's the one that escaped Lord Leo's private collection. Better keep an eye out."

A little baffled Amina looked after the wizard, even after he'd disappeared behind the front door, but nonetheless told the guards and servants to be watchful.

* * *

The runes were burning in a bright white, humming peacefully, despite what they enclosed. A few more than forty shadows were currently imprisoned under deck, behind the runes and bars of pure, foggy light, reaching up to the ceiling. Kozmotis watched them cautiously, after he'd given them to eat. Over the years they had learned more about the shadows, and begun to characterize them; the smallest, which were now the only ones called Fearlings, were little more than ghost, slim humanoid upper body, often with long claws for hands, but no legs or feet, as they levitated, trailed by darkness. The larger ones had a complete humanoid body, being as tall as or even taller than a human. They were the ones sometimes adding shapes that looked like the outlines of clothing; the Atlantians had come to call them Nightmare Men or real Dream Pirates.

For some reason the latter, required actual food, not much but some. The sages had investigated and learned that they needed to be fed whenever the Atlantian crew expressed little fear, while the Fearlings fell in a sleep like state, as if hibernating and waiting for better times to come. Kozmotis had ordered that all Nightmare Men were to be provided meals, something most captains were displeased by; not that they had much choice. Still it did serve a purpose, other than keeping the shadows alive. Just the simple fact that the Dream Pirates needed to eat made them so much more human, which decreased the fear among the men. Thankfully once in prison, they no longer required food, likely because the shadows there were often merged together and held in utter darkness.

Kozmotis turned away from the Dream Pirates, as his ship anchored at Umbra, the name given to this island, which held the prison for all Dream Pirates. Despite Ombric's insisting that it didn't require guards, and that the ward spells sufficed, there were always three soldiers stationed here. However they were relived monthly, as the spells held the shadows inside, but not their voices. Most could not take it for a long period of time.

The wizard, who was accompanying Kozmotis on this journey, joined him under deck, an ebony staff in his left hand. He was called Solon, a middle-aged man, his head clean shaven and tattooed with sacred scripture from his long past time with the priesthood. His blue robe had seen better times, as a Fearling had gotten its claws on it. "With your permission I will begin the ritual."

Kozmotis nodded, and took a step back, as Solon stepped up to the cage. He drew a small pentagram with white chalk for his own protection, while the shadows hissed angrily. They didn't particularly like him, yet he remained unimpressed and placed his staff at the upper spike of the star. Solon began to speak the enchantments. Even though it wasn't directed at him, Kozmotis could feel his hair standing on end, as if temperature had dropped suddenly. The Dream Pirates wailed, a sound that made everyone who could hear it cringe, though the General kept his expression straight. The shadows shifted and moved, losing their forms. They merged into a black sphere, hovering above the ground, the surface constantly shifting like black water or thick smoke. Solon lifted his free hand, clenching it into a fist, and the bars of light bend to enclose the sphere in a circular cage.

Only now Solon stepped off the pentagram and began to walk up the stairs, the cage floating in front of him, controlled by the staff. Kozmotis followed the wizard, narrowing his eyes briefly at the sunlight. The crew had stepped aside, leaving plenty of room for the caged prisoners. With a handful of chosen men, the General and the sage climbed up the mountain, where the guards were already waiting for them. They all looked unusually pale, dark rings had appeared around their sunken in eyes, but the held themselves straight. All three bowed before the High General, as they let Solon pass into the prison.

"Lord Pitch, we are honored by your visit." One of the guards welcomed him.

"My thanks for your warm welcome." Kozmotis responded instructing them to stand up, with a simple gesture. "I suppose you'll be pleased to hear that we've also brought your relief, and you are to return to Atlantis with us."

The gratitude was written plainly on their faces, and Kozmotis followed the wizard inside. The sphere was now in front of the door, and Solon had begun a new incantation. Once more the shadows moved violently, resisting their fate, but in vain. The runes upon the door glowed up brightly, and the shadows began to stream through the solid stone, right at the center of the pentagram. After about two minutes, they were all inside, and Solon dropped his arms, sweat running down his head. The runes dimmed, and returned to humming peacefully. It had been like this for several years, and would continue for some more, this much the High General knew.

* * *

Before going home, Kozmotis had one place left to visit. He led his horse Aclippe through the harbor streets by the harness, the people he met making way, not a few bowing respectfully. To each who did he nodded appreciatively. His fame had greatly increased after killing the titanic shadow singlehandedly, and even more than before he was now regarded as a hero.

As he wandered through the broad streets of Atlantis, he once more took in the beauty and magnificence of the city. The landscape, despite being on the coast, was dominated by steep hills, and so some buildings stood upon columns with the scale of broad trees, especially along the river. The majority of buildings were small palaces in themselves, palazzos of white marble and stone, and several stories high, the fronts covered with ornamented pillars, reliefs and statues. A few had domes for roofs, some colored in pale blue or shimmering gold. One could not help but feel small and somewhat insignificant in these streets.

The house Kozmotis had been looking for was a workshop, famous throughout the realm, and it belonged to an old friend. The noble family of Mercur had become rich by being successful merchants, having their very own fleet of ship, with which they sailed to the continents, even going as far as Asia some times, taking the long route around Africa. One of their family however had abandoned the trade, and instead had taken to handcraft; he could built anything from wood, be it works of art and ships. The workshop was easy enough to spot, as it showcased his skill, yet rather small between the other buildings. It was entirely made of wood, and awe striking images had been carved into the pillars, mirroring various styles, like the knot designs of northern people, or covered with profiles of wild animals. Kozmotis tied Aclippe to a post, which head was shaped like a dragon's, and proceeded to push open the large double doors, a bit more than three meters high, ornamented same as the pillars.

The workshop had two floors, with a great hall at the center like a roofed atrium. Dozens of people worked here, the sound of saws and hammers dominating within these halls. Even before Kozmotis had closed the portals behind him, he was being addressed by a warm, booming voice.

"Lord Pitch, how may this humble craftsman be of service?" Kyrillos Mercur was surely not humble by appearances; a tall man with broad shoulders, his bid hands covered with scars from years of work. His face was sturdy but angular, framed by a curly brown beard he kept short, while the rest was held together in a ponytail, reaching down to his shoulder blades. He gave Kozmotis quite a pat on the back, once the General stepped into the center hall.

He caught himself however, suppressing an instinctive cough. "I have a request, and I was counting on your skills, old friend."

"Well, you're in time; just the other day we finished few new capitals for the temple columns. What do you have in mind?"

"You remember the catamaran you build me?"

"Aye, beautiful thing that was; likely the fasted ship I've ever build." His voice switched to an alarmed tone. "Don't tell me you broke it."

"No such thing." Kozmotis appeased him. "It remains in one piece and is well taken care of. Still, I'd like you to build me a second one, but this time smaller, so a child can handle it."

Suddenly Kyrillos laughed aloud, his voice booming through the hall, turning a few heads. "Now you want one for your daughter?"

"I took her sailing with it; now I have to take her every time I come home."

"I see. May I presume she'll one day lead our fleets to victory same as her father?"

"Amina would surely kill me." He replied with a grin. "Until then, I'd like to surprise my daughter with a special treat. You think you can help me with that?"

"Do you truly need to ask? It would be my pleasure, and a welcome challenge. Maybe she'll sail it to the Amazons, or further even to the Sisters of Flight." Kyrillos mused. Should such a thing happen, Kozmotis figured he'd have to run after her, not just to bring her home, but to escape his wife's wrath. Amina still had her very own bow, and knew well how to handle it; Sagittarius archers were not known to miss their chosen target. Kyrillos invited Pitchiner with a wave of his hand to follow him. "Come then; I'm sure I have the plans and sketches somewhere around."

* * *

Somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic, far north from Atlantis, was a small island. In truth it was only the peak of a mountain, with a crooked gap in the stone, just large enough for a person to get through. One could follow a long dark tunnel, which led deep into the mountain, until it reached a cavern of tremendous dimensions, if the human eye could have seen in the complete and utter darkness. Things moved around between the stone, shadows with hardly a shape to speak of, only sharp, predatory white eyes in the dark, and the sound of sharp claws upon rock. They were furious.

"_More gone_." Came the voices. "_Less and less return_." It sounded like the words were said by several shadows simultaneously throughout the cavern. Ever since the Atlantians had begun to take them prisoner, fewer were killed and reappeared in the mountain's caverns.

"_Atlantis remains a threat."_

_"The only true threat." The shadows agreed._

_"We must destroy them." _They decided_. "Before our numbers grow too small."_

_There was some concerned. "But then they will fear us no longer. All must fear us!"_

_"But there is rest of the world." _Others reminded them_. "We can do without a few thousands, when we have millions left to feed on."_

_"Atlantians hardly fear us anymore. Their leader was too successful in his efforts; he gives them hope."_

_"But we have killed other leaders." _A few argued_._

_"Not enough to crumble their faith." _More objected.

_"They feel too save."_

_"The General." Some whispered. "The General must be our target."_

_"We tried to kill him countless times. We managed not to slay him in battle."_

_"The cursed wizards are to blame." The voices hissed wrathfully._

_"We must break him." They concluded. "Break his spirit, make him lose what is most dear to him."_

_"When they see their hero broken, they will realize none are safe from us." They cheered cruelly. "They will fear us once more, make us stronger."_

_"And then we kill him."_

_"Atlantis will follow." _They added, relishing the thought. _"Their prison will crumble."_

Then all the voices spoke at once_. "And our darkness will cover the entire world."_

…

Somewhere in Epirus, Chrysos suddenly shivered. He knew there was something dark in the west; he could feel it like a cool wind, ever present but nothing he could truly touch upon. And it made him shiver to his bones. It was similar to the sensation he got when relieving someone of their nightmares, when Chrysos went to the dark places of their minds and found their fears. Whatever was out there, it was dark and forbidding, inescapable like the coming night. And it was stirring. Something big was going to happen, and Chrysos prayed he was far enough away to be spared its wrath.

* * *

**Author's Note**

**Characters from the original books: **Kozmotis Pitchiner, Lady (Amina) Pitchiner, Emily Jane Pitchiner, Ombric Shalazar, Tsar & Tsarina Lunar, Tsar (Badr) Lunar/MiM, Sandman (Chrysos), Nightlight (Zopyros), Dream Pirates/Fearlings/Nightmare Men

The **Monstrous Shadow **was inspired by the cover art of the Iron Maiden album **_Fear of the Dark_**

**Butterflies:** Well, there had to be a reason why golden butterflies circled Pitch's head after Sandy knocked him out in the movie. That scene was heavily inspired by artwork from deviantart, by ymirr.

What Chrysos says to the Fearling in the boy's mind ("You are not real. You are not true. You are nothing.") is taken right from **_The Sandman: The Story of Sanderson Mansnoozie _**by William Joyce.

**Oneiroi: **Greek deities of dreams, sons of Nyx(Night) and Erebus(Darkness), and brothers of Hypnos(Sleep), Thanatos(Death) and Geras(Old Age).

Three of them are: Morpheus (Guise), presenting human images. Icelus, usually called Phobetor(frightening), who was the personification of nightmares, appearing in dreams in form of animals and monsters, and Phantasos(Apparition), responsible for inanimate objects and forces of nature.

**Ombric** is said to speak many insect languages in the books, and therefore understands the grasshoppers.

**Characters/Names/Translation:**

**Chrysos/Sandy: **Chrysos is Greek and means 'golden'; the name was given by Eusebios as a reference to his unusual blond hair, and later it will go nicely in regard to the Dream Sand. In the books he's not from earth, so his backstory needed to be changed quite a bit. Since he had to live around the same time as Kozmotis and Emily, I made him Greek and a priest of the Oneiroi, so he'd have a connection to dreams even before he was chosen.

I've read that he is not mute in the books, and furthermore that in the movie he didn't speak so as to not wake any sleeping children…and because it made him look cuter. I made him mute, because he doesn't make any audible sounds in the movie, not even in battle when he's hit, and secondly why make Sandy a Guardian and then tell him he can't ever speak again, without disturbing the sleep of all the children in the world? It just seems cruel; he must be ever so grateful to MiM.

**Tsar Lunar/MiM:** In the books he is just a baby when Kozmotis is turned into Pitch Black, and destroys the Golden Age. His family is attacked by Pitch, leaving him pretty much stranded on his parent's vessel after their death and to be raised by the crew. Obviously there wouldn't be such a vessel in this version, as we are on earth, so there would also be no crew to raise him. Therefor I decided to have him grow up with his family, which will also have him see the destruction by the Fearlings and Dream Pirates for himself. Giving him the Nickname Badr(which is Arabic by the way) was really just to keep him apart from his father.

Aclippe = mighty mare

Eusebios= pious

Zopyros= glowing

Umbra (latin) = shadow

Solon= wisdom


	4. Nothing Lasts

**Chapter IV**

Emily looked cautiously around a column. It was night, and the moon shone once more brightly upon Atlantis, and once more the young Lady Pitchiner was sneaking out, careful to avoid the few guards on duty. Two men were standing at the front portal, talking quietly to each other. Neither looked in her direction, so Emily snuck to a window, which had a large branch just outside of it. With one last look back, she jumped onto the branch, and climbed down the tree, hardly making any of the leaves rustle on her way. She slipped into the shadows, and headed downhill to the boathouse.

Her mother had been rather upset with her father, when he'd given Emily her own catamaran, but Kozmotis had assured her that Emily would only be allowed to sail when he was there to teach and watch over her. Of course being a child, Emily was inclined to break this rule, and every now and then would sneak out in bright nights like this one, to go sailing on her own. At first she'd capsized a few times, daunting to her inpatient young mind, by now however she could handle it well, though nearly not as well as her father.

She opened the boathouse doors, and pushed the thankfully light vessel into the water, removing the small wheels from beneath the twin-hulls. It was truly a beautiful night, barely a cloud in the sky, and little wind, enough for her to sail with, but not so strong as to have her fight for control. As she picked up speed, Emily followed the coastline, steering towards a reef not far away. Even from a distance one could see a light from under water.

And suddenly there was a school of fish beneath her, their individual bodies glowing dimly like little stars, but together they looked like a yellow flame. Mesmerized Emily watched them, lying flat on the catamaran's network. She reached out with a hand, and as soon as her fingers touched the water, the fish fled, hiding between the rocks of the reef ahead.

Emily waited patiently, until the fish showed themselves again, swimming away from the reefs. Hastily she got back on her feet and took the ropes. The sail moved into position, allowing her to follow the light beneath the waves. They were fast, and with the little wind there was, Emily had trouble keeping up. When they reached shallower waters, the long, slim fish, started jumping like flying fish, now surrounding the young girl at all sides. The silence of night was suddenly broken by the sound of splashing water and Emily's joyful laughter, and soon time was all but forgotten to her.

…

Hours later, a completely in saltwater drenched Emily ran back from the boathouse to the mansion. Like back in the dead of night, she hushed through the trees' shadows to an accessible window. Thankfully there was still little activity, and the guards were now tired from their long, uneventful shift. On light feet, Emily sneaked back to her room unseen from shadow to shadow. She had to be in bed before Zoe would come to wake her, and the sun was already starting to show itself. Quickly she slipped into her room, closing the door quietly and…oh. Her mother was sitting on her bed, arms folded in front of her chest, looking rather displeased. "Well then, young lady." She began, calmer than expected, though with anger at the edge of her voice. "And where have you been all night?"

"Morning, mother." Emily said sheepishly. "Just out for a stroll."

Did she need to raise an eyebrow like this? "With a catamaran, perhaps?"

"Perhaps."

Sighing heavily, her mother stood up. "The reason why I didn't torch that thing, in the first place was because your father assured me you wouldn't be sailing it while he was away."

Nervously, Emily had begun to rub her hands, shifting her weight from foot to foot. "But it's going to be weeks before he's back, and I can handle it really well now."

Amina took her daughters hands into her own, and crouched down to her eyelevel. "Emily, the currents out there can pull you to the open sea. Have you any idea how dangerous that could be, especially when no one knows where you are?" Inquisitively, she looked directly into the girls eyes.

"I know, and I always stay close to the coast. I have read most of the charts father keeps in the library." She tried to reassure her mother. "I've learned about the nearby currents, and where I can avoid them. Please let me go sailing."

"I don't forbid it, because I want to punish you, but to keep you save, and one day when you're older and more experience you may sail alone again." She stood up straight again. "For now however, I will have the boathouse locked, and for last night's trip you will stay in your room. There will be a guard at your door, and I have Thymos make sure you won't take any of the horses."

No! Emily's eyes widened. "Mom!" She was about to start protesting, but her mother wouldn't have any of it, raising a hand to stop her.

"No arguments, Emily. If you won't listen to words, you leave me no choice. Now wash up, and put on something clean. Breakfast is in half an hour." With that she left the room, the door falling soundly shut behind her.

For a moment Emily looked after her, still a little shocked, before letting herself fall unto the bed. She was angry at her mother for punishing her, and angry at herself, more for being caught than anything else, though the longer Emily thought about it, the more a twitch of guild crawled up in the back of her mind. If only her father was back home.

* * *

A few weeks later, Kozmotis had returned to Atlantis. Just the day before, a hawk had carried a message from Ombric, to visit him upon arrival, so the general took a detour to the sages' guild on the palace grounds. Five tall towers, and a small building connecting them all, surrounded by a garden, was home to a little over a hundred sorcerers and sorceresses. The Archmage was awaiting Kozmotis down in the dungeon, where despite the name no prisoners were held, but experiment conducted. Ombric's study was a small hall, the fine-grained sandstone along with the lamps giving it a surprisingly warm atmosphere. There was desk at the far side, loaded with scrolls and a rather heavy looking book, as large as a man's upper body.

"Ah Kozmotis, so glad you could come." The elder wizard welcomed him, as soon as he'd walked in.

"My pleasure, Ombric. Lord Lunar."

The young man next to Ombric bowed politely. "High General, it is an honor."

"Such unnecessary formalities; were among friends here." Shalazar noted his voice excited and merry. "Now, the reason I've called for you is that I have a gift, something I'm sure will be most useful in your continuing fight against the shadows. Badr, would you be so kind as to get it for me?"

"Certainly, Archmage." Tsar Badr went to cabinet, and returned with a most exotic weapon he needed to carry with both hands.

Certainly surprised Pitchiner took it. "A scythe?" Kozmotis motioned the weapon in his hands; the shaft wrapped in white leather to ensure the hold, ending at the blade's center, which itself was almost as long as Kozmotis was tall and curved, the metal shimmering silver in the light. The darker metal of the shaft seemed to have run around the blade while it was still liquid, metal twines reaching from it to both halves of the blade, merging everything together. Runes had been carved into the upper part of the blade, where it was dull, some Kozmotis recognized from other enchanted weapons. He was surprised how light this one was despise its size.

Ombric looked rather pleased with himself. "Yes, a unique weapon, first of its kind, excellent for several enemies at once, and as I understand, you've lost your liking for your sword the other year."

"Undeniably." Kozmotis replied grimly.

"I also added a new spell, something we've been working on for quite some time." The wizard continued. "Well, frankly ever since the war started, and I will admit it is not perfect yet."

"I trust the weapon will not incinerate or blow up in my hands?" Kozmotis questioned, suddenly alarmed and uneasy.

"Oh no, of course not. I would have never given it to you in that case. No, this weapon has an enchantment upon it, which is capable of not only killing shadows, but extinguish them utterly, without a chance of return."

For a moment Kozmotis was sure he'd misunderstood the wizard. "Excuse me?"

"A powerful spell, tricky, and as I've said not flawless." Ombric began to explain. "Otherwise I'd be outfitting your soldiers already. No, sadly the spell upon striking a shadow drains one's own energy. The student who volunteered to test it found this out the hard way."

"Is he still alive?"

"Yes, yes, no need to worry. But he was unconscious for a few weeks."

Kozmotis frowned, eyeing the scythe. "You gave me a weapon I cannot wield in battle. Forgive me if I fail to see the sense in that."

"The spell must be activated by speaking a brief incantation, and is deactivated by the same words. Aside from this, the scythe will deal with Dream Pirates just like your sword."Ombric reasoned. "I'd advice to use the spell only in desperate situations, or outside battle."

"You want me to execute prisoners with it?" There was shock and a hint of disgust in the general's voice.

For the first time that day, the wizard's voice turned grave and serious. "As honorable as your position is, and as much as I support it, Kozmotis, the Dream Pirates are not human. I believe an exception here is acceptable."

Feeling uncomfortable, Tsar Badr looked between Archmage and High General, the latter appearing to be rather conflicted on this matter. "I kill in battle because I must, but I'm no executioner. A small difference to someone like you, Ombric, and I can see why, yet to me it's defining, a line which I do not wish to cross, unless I have absolutely no choice."

"It is of course your decision, Kozmotis. I was merely voicing my opinion. I hope I didn't offend you."

Kozmotis seemed more relaxed now, smiling again. "None taken, I assure you, and my thanks for this weapon; I'm sure it will serve me well."

"Of that I am certain. In the meantime we will attempt to perfect the spell…which reminds me I have not given you the incantation yet. I've written it down for you." The Archmage went to his desk, and began to search between the scrolls.

While Ombric looked for the piece of paper, Tsar Badr spoke with the general. "Lord Pitch, Ombric has told me that your daughter is now tutored by the guild as well."

"Yes, for little more than a month now. She seems to have a greater potential than her parents. I myself needed about fifteen minutes to ignite the candle, when I was tested." He remembered and shrugged.

"Have you received any training?"

"Basic lessons, but the Sagittarius soon put me on their ships; and it seems to have worked out quite well for me."

Tsar Badr chuckled. "Indeed it has." He said just as Ombric returned.

He handed Pitchiner a small scroll, sealed with wax, the Atlantian tree upon it. "It's a small incantation really, but you best have it memorized." The wizard told him, and then smiled again. "Give my regards to your family."

Kozmotis nodded. "Of course Ombric, Tsar. Divines bless you."

* * *

Chrysos cut words into his wax tablet, as his mentor prepared spices in a mortar. Over the past year the young priest had encountered several shadows within the minds of people, all of them children, and it was greatly troubling him. Silently he wondered how many other children were being haunted, where he could not help them. The thought made him cringe. As he was finished, Chrysos turned the tablet around and knocked with the pen against the wooden frame.

Eusebios looked up from his work, and read the tablet. "No, I don't know why they seem to haunt children so exclusively." The priest put the pestle aside. "It worries you, does it not?"

Chrysos gave him a questioning look.

"Yes it troubles me too, if that's what you're wondering."

The young novice wrote something under his initial question. _Did the gods send them?_

"I don't believe so." Eusebios admitted. "If they did, then why give you the power to vanquish them, why allow it?"

_A test maybe._

"A test you would have already passed, if it was one. I may not be blessed as you are, my boy, but even I can sense their presence, the sudden fear that grips your heart, as if nothing in this world could lift it again. Those shadows are certainly not divine. Whatever they truly are, whatever is sending them out to those children, they are enemies of our gods." The priest concluded, stroking his beard as he talked.

_What if there are people being haunted, who cannot come to us for help?_

"It is unfortunate but there is little we can do about it. Perhaps there are others like you to aid those souls. Focus your mind on your work here, Chrysos. It is to this temple that we belong."

Chrysos wrote no reply. As much as he loved and respected his mentor, staying here while people suffered, people he knew he could help, bothered him greatly. Besides, he was no one, who could take over the temple when Eusebios would eventually die; he could hardly speak the rites and the prayers and frankly, he didn't like the prospect of remaining in this temple for his entire life. Chrysos didn't know yet what he would do, or when, but he wouldn't follow into the old man's footsteps as much as Eusebios wanted him to.

* * *

The sorceress Melinoe had been chosen by Ombric to tutor Emily. The first lessons with her bored the young girl, as they mostly consisted of quiet meditation, but it gave her mother time to draw something she had requested. The sorceress herself displayed great authority and grandeur with her presence alone. Her face was stern but not unkind, showing first signs of age, silver lines running through her raven hair. The robe she wore was of a dark blue, with silver ornamentation along the borders.

Lady Melinoe taught Emily in the library, and they had made themselves comfortable on some pillows on the floor in order to meditate. Emily kept her eyes closed, sitting there cross-legged, getting more fidgety by the minute. When could she move again?

It seemed like hours had past, when the sorceress spoke. "That should suffice for today." Finally; Emily opened her eyes again, blinking at the sudden bright light. "It is time for you to put your skills to practical use. A simple spell, to focus your energy."

"A spell?" Actual magic; this day was getting good.

A ghost of a smile played on the sorceress lips. "Yes. It will create a small orb of light, which we refer to as a Wisp Light. It only serves illuminating purposes, and though for some sages it looks like a small flame, it is quite cool. Now, while you summon it, your mind must be focused on light; not just what it looks like, but what you feel when the sun shines upon you, or you light a candle." Lady Melinoe explained. "Without this focus the words are meaningless. Try it."

Taking a deep breath, Emily closed her eyes again. She thought of the warm light of the sun, soothing and comfortable in the winter, burning hot in the summer, and the soft, comforting light of a lamp flickering in the night.

Her mentor spoke again. "The words you speak are _solas làmh_. Fold your hands and hold them close to your lips, when you speak them."

Emily did as she was told, and as her fingers touched her lips she said. "_Solas làmh._" Maybe her pronunciation was a little off, but she felt something running through her finger, like there was suddenly more blood in her blood vessels. She opened her eyes, a saw a brief flash of light between her fingers. Excited she looked at the sorceress.

Lady Melinoe. "A good enough first effort, but you need to keep trying. You likely focused too much on the words, drawing your attention away from what truly matters."

And so Emily tried again, and again.

…

Amina looked up from her drawing board when her daughter came running in; the two of them had made up just last week, and keeping her word, Aemilia had not run off again…for now. Right now she was sweating but clearly happy, a bright smile on her lips, spreading over her face. "You've never been this happy after a lesson with Lady Melinoe." Her mother noted curiously.

"She finally taught me a spell."

"That is wonderful."

Her daughter nodded excited. "Do you want me to show you?"

"I'd love to." She assured her, putting aside the board and coal.

Aemilia folded her hands together and lifted them to her mouth, then she whispered a few words, Amina couldn't quite make out. There was suddenly a soft light coming from between her fingers. She opened her hands, and a small orb of pure, soft white light, with just a flicker of green floated over her palms, like a miniature sun, though it did not hurt the eyes, when looking at it.

"It is beautiful." Amina praised her. "And to imagine that neither your father nor I have ever gotten really past the initial tests."

"So I'm already better than you and father." She said rather smugly.

Suddenly her mother narrowed her eyes, mimicking Kozmotis' mischievous smile rather well. "Keep making remarks like that, and I'll give you your father's nose." She said nodding to the drawing board.

Aemilia seemed to be contemplating this; Kozmotis did have an aquiline nose, without a nasion to speak of, her own being rather straight. So far she'd been glad to have inherited his light brown, almost golden eyes, eagle-like in their own right, and to show signs of having his long face. Apparently she came to the conclusion that she could do without his nose though. "I'll just be going to my room. Change clothing before father gets home."

Amina chuckled amused. "That is an excellent idea."

…

Only a short time later, Amina came to her daughter's room. She handed her the drawing board, expectant, but pleased with herself. "So, what do you think?"

Aemilia regarded the small picture her mother had drawn. "It looks just like me." She said with an approving smile.

"You think it will fit?"

"Just a second." Aemilia went to her desk, and opened a little wooden chest. From it she took an oval, golden locket, large enough to fit into her palm, and placed it upon the picture. It was a perfect fit. Her mother took a knife and cut the paper to size. Careful not to smear the coal drawing, Amina placed it under the glass and closed the locket. "You think father will like it?"

"I'm sure he'll never take it off."

…

Two hours later, Kozmotis was walking up the stairs to the front portal, when Aemilia came running. She tackled him just when he had a foot lifted from the ground, which he quickly needed to put back down behind him to properly catch her. "Father!"

"Emily." He said, grateful to have her back again, embracing her tightly. "How have you been sweetie?" He further asked, and with her on his arms he continued to climb the stairs.

"Lady Melinoe has shown me my first spell." She told him excitedly.

"Then I must insist you show it to me sometime." He noticed that she was looking over his back.

The lance like weapon tied to the black steed did not escape her notice. "Father, what is Aclippe carrying?"

"That, Emily, is a gift from Ombric; not for you I'm afraid."

Aemilia leaned back to be face to face with him again. "And what is it?" She asked, now being even more curious.

"A new weapon, a scythe actually." Kozmotis explained as they entered the atrium.

There was a twinkle in her eyes. "Can I see?"

"Maybe another time. Where is your mother?"

"I think she's still coming downstairs." Aemilia admitted, turning her head to the atrium. "I was just running ahead."

"I see." He said with a smirk, looking contented at his daughter, and it widened into a smile as he saw his wife coming down the stairs.

* * *

Kozmotis motioned the scythe, looking for the best position for his hands and stand, as he performed wide swings with this new weapon. The silver blade cut through the air in circles and semi-circles, in ellipses from any angle in front of him, over his head or inches above the ground. Meanwhile, Amina watched him from the stairway, at a safe distance, as he trained on the terrace. She sat there, her drawing board on her knees, a coal-pen in her hands, fingers soon black from her work.

The early summer sun was already quite strong, and after a while Kozmotis was glad he'd taken off his shirt and leather boots. The leather binding of the shaft meanwhile, kept his hands from slipping. He kept going for over an hour, before he took a break. Putting the scythe aside, Kozmotis kneeled at the pound to get some refreshing water into his face, from which pearls of sweat were running down. As he wiped the water off again, he noticed that Amina was joining him.

"There was something I've been meaning to talk with you about."

"And you've waited until I laid my weapon aside; not a good sign for one of us." He joked.

"It's about the catamaran." She said plainly, and Kozmotis licked over his lips, already not liking where this was going. "She's going sailing in the black of night all alone! Why did you give her that damn ship?"

He got back on his feet, hands raised somewhat defensively. "And you think it is my fault? Ship or no ship, Emily would still be running away whenever she could."

"We both know how dangerous the sea is; if she were to sail upon the wrong current, it would carry her out, away from Atlantis." There was just a hint of anger in her voice, but hope was in her eyes, hope he would agree with her.

"Which is why I've showed her where she could go, when I went sailing with her." Kozmotis argued, rather defensively, seeking to appease her. "I showed her the maps, so she would study them. Do you think I would leave her safety to chance or a child's sense of responsibility?"

Amina calmed down. "I don't believe that, even if it doesn't sound like it. What I want, what I expect, is for you to talk to her. She misses you; why do you think she tries so hard to emulate you?"

Kozmotis sighed. "I can't promise that she'll listen to me, but I'll talk with her."

Relieved, Amina smiled at him. "Thank you." Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "And no subliminal encouragement."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Admittedly there was no way he could have made this sound honest.

Amina playfully shoved him, and standing at the very edge he stumbled backwards, foot touching the water. In the moment before falling backwards, Kozmotis managed to grab her by the arm, and pulled her with her. She screamed, before it was drowned by the splashing of water, both disappearing briefly from sight.

A few seconds later they came up again, Amina catching for breath, Kozmotis looking rather amused. "If you thought I needed a bath, just say so." He noted.

She brushed her long hair out of her face. "Why did you have to pull me in?"

"Your hands were dirty." He explained with a matter of fact voice.

It earned him one of her frowns. "Bit excessive, don't you think?" She asked, tilting her head.

"As I recall you pushed me in first."

She put her arms around his neck, tilting her head as he began to kiss her along the neck. "Please just talk to her."

"I will." Kozmotis promised her, his voice more serious now. "You know that you two mean everything to me."

Amina smiled softly at him, returning his, neither being in a hurry to get out of the cool water.

* * *

A few days after his return, Kozmotis received word from an island, less than a day's journey from Atlantis. The hawk had come early in the morning and knocked with its beak against the window of his and Amina's bedchamber. Both woke at the sound, but at first remained in bed. "That can only be for you." She said sleepily.

"I'm afraid your right." He responded, with his arm still around her. The hawk cried out, demanding their attention. Kozmotis sighed and placed a soft kiss on her shoulder, before leaving the bed. As he walked over to the window, he put on a floor-length robe, and brushed back his hair. He needed to narrow his eyes as he pulled aside the curtains, and the first light of day flooded the room. Behind him Amina groaned a little annoyed. As soon as the window was open, the hawk came flying in and settled on a chair. It watched attentively as Kozmotis took the small scroll from its leg, before it began to clean its feathers. Meanwhile Kozmotis sat down at the edge of the bed, and Amina joined him, leaning herself against his back, head on his shoulder blade, arms around him.

His tired looking face grew concerned as he read, and somehow Amina had noticed it. "Is everything alright?"

"It's from Euthalia."

"That's not far from here." She noted, being more awake by the minute. "What do they want?"

"They say living shadows plague the town and its people; no one has been killed so far, but they suffer from night terrors. They fear it might be Dream Pirates."

By now she was wide awake, and at least as alarmed as he was. "Kozmo, they've never been this close before…if those truly are Dream Pirates."

"What else could it be?" Kozmotis replied, reading the short letter again. "I wonder how they got this far without us noticing; we should have heard of a black ship weeks before it reached Euthalia."

Amina leaned her forehead against his shoulder, sighing heavily. "You will go yourself, won't you?" She asked, despite knowing the answer already.

"I must." He confirmed. "I have to find out how they got there."

"You just came back." There was sorrow in her voice, and she hugged him tighter.

Kozmotis turned his head as far as possible to look over his shoulder. "Euthalia is not far." He reassured her, taking one of her hands. "I should return within a few days." He took a quill from the bedside table and wrote a brief order on the other side of the scroll; he would need his ship ready as early as possible. With a whistle he called the hawk, which landed obediently on his arm, so he could bind the scroll to its leg.

Meanwhile, Amina had considered his last words for a while, and as the hawk had left through the window again she pulled him back into bed, with somewhat of a sly smirk on her lips.

* * *

At noon, Kozmotis walked from the stables to the dock where his ship was anchored, just as the last supplies were brought on board. Aemilia was holding his hand, looking at the ship and the crew with great curiosity, while Amina walked next to him on the other side.

As they reached the ship, at the gangway, Kozmotis kneeled down and placed a hand gently on Aemilia's shoulder. "As long as I'm gone, try not to drive your mother crazy." He told her but with a twinkle in his eyes. His daughter grinned in kind.

"Before you go, I have something for you." She pulled out a golden, oval locket she'd worn hidden until now, and gave it to him. Her look was full of expectation.

He opened it and saw a picture of Aemilia, smiling softly at him. Amina must have drawn it herself; he'd recognized the style anywhere. Smiling himself, he closed it and put it around his neck, just before his daughter threw herself around his neck. A little surprised, but touched, Kozmotis picked her up. "Thank you; I shall always carry this with me."

"Will you be gone long?" She asked after she'd leaned back, keeping her hands on his shoulders.

"I'll be back soon." He assured her.

Worried Aemilia looked at him. "Promise?"

Pitch smiled encouragingly, hugged her, pressing her smaller body closer to him, allowing her to put her arms around his neck once more, and he whispered softly and lovingly into her hair. "On my soul." This made her smile again, and while she still sat on his arms they rested their foreheads against each other.

Kozmotis shifted her, so he had one arm free, which he then offered to his wife, who tried to muster an honest smile but as usual couldn't hide her concern. "Be careful." Amina said, hugging him as he put his arm around her.

"I will, and do not worry; I'll be back before you know it." All three stood there together at the dock, arms around each other, for a moment forgetting the rest of the world. They would have been standing there like that much longer, had Libra not arrived.

He coughed, a little hesitantly. "My apologies, Lord Pitch, Lady Pitchiner, but ship and crew are ready for departure."

Amina placed a kiss on her husband's cheek, before he let Aemilia back on the ground. "Go then; don't keep the people of Euthalia waiting."

"I pray that I may stay with you a little longer next time." With that Kozmotis kissed her one last time, savouring the moment. Unnoticed by the couple, Aemilia pulled a face and had stuck out her tongue again, making Libra snicker silently, while about half the crew had come to the railing to watch. Amina blushed, nuzzling her face against her husband as the men started to cheer, and Kozmotis laughed brightly, still holding her in his arms.

* * *

Half a day's journey later, it was evening now, the ship arrived at Euthalia. The island was known for it rich fields, and much of what grew there was exported to Atlantis, but upon arrival the island's only town looked abandoned. Everyone was on high alert when they landed, moving through the streets in parties. Solon was using his staff to create shockwaves of light every few meters, but none of the shadows stirred. Soon they also found the inhabitants. To the soldiers' relief they were all alive, but cowering in their homes jumping at every sound, even shying away from their fellow Atlantians.

Kozmotis, Libra and Solon met at the agora. "This is obviously the work of Fearlings." The wizard said, growling.

"If they wanted to lure us here, why haven't they attacked us yet?" Libra wondered.

Solon shrugged. "I cannot say, but I haven't even detected a single one within the town, only the resonance of their presence still lingering here."

"Keep searching." Lord Pitch decided. "Something still has its hold on these people's minds, which means they can't have gone too fat. Libra, try to get someone to speak; we need as much information as can be provided."

"By your orders." The officer bowed, and went off, taking a few soldiers with him.

Solon meanwhile had taken a piece of chalk, and began to draw something on the ground, a circle of runes. After his completion he stepped into it. "The circle amplifies the spell if been using before to draw out the shadows. Should something be in this town, it will now be pulled here by the power of my incantation. Ready yourselves."

Everyone had their weapons drawn already, and now waited anxiously as the wizard spoke. A wave of light washed over them, like the aurora borealis only few Atlantians had ever seen on exploratory journeys. It washed through the streets, windows and slits under the doors, into every shadowy corner.

At first nothing happened, then something black hushed over the ground, the soldiers jumping out of its way. It only stopped at the rune circle, rose, until it stood nearly two meters tall, claws spread, and white eyes pinned on Solon. It snarled dangerously exposing black fangs; a Nightmare Man. "Just one?" He said, a little unimpressed, eyes regarding the shadow almost indifferently. "I doubt one of you could oppress an entire town like this."

"Underestimating us will be your downfall, human." It hissed, lifting a claw to strike.

Kozmotis was faster, and cut the hands off with two clean strikes of his sword, before Solon had even time to react. The Nightmare Man screamed, and collapsed to its knees. Being a shadow, it would not bleed or die from it, and seconds later suffer no pain at all, but now it could no longer hurt someone physically, or merge with the shadows and escape. "We'll bring it to the cage and question it. We must learn where the others of its ilk are."

It struggled when it was being trapped in the light sphere, to no avail. They brought the shadow onboard, to the cell under deck, where Solon locked it up. Kozmotis stayed there, even after the wizard had left to try another spell, thinking about how to question it, when Libra joined him. "I've spoken to the towns people." He began, greatly worried. "They say a small black ship has set sails from Euthalia not three hours ago. Sir, they've taken the Aspasia current."

"The current leads right to the Atlantian harbour."

As much as the officer was worried, he was just as confused. "It's nonsense to send a single ship to Atlantis. The sage's guild would tear it apart before they made landfall, and they would need to get pass several watch posts on the way there."

Contemplating, Lord Pitch ran his fingers over his chin. "Unless somehow they manage to get off the current."

The other man shook his head. "It's too strong; not even our ships can do it." Both Libra and Pitchiner turned around when the heard laughter from the cell.

Suspiciously the general narrowed his eyes and approached the cage. "Tell me what you are planning." He demanded calmly.

The shadow stepped forward, almost touching the foggy bars of light. "Ask yourself, High General, what do you fear more than anything, what is it that you seek to protect most?" The Nightmare Man hissed, and laughed again, chilling to the bone.

For a second Kozmotis froze, his eyes widening in terror at its words; he'd almost let go of his weapon. Then he rushed past Libra up on deck. "The entire crew back onboard! Full sail, all men to the rudders!" He shouted. "We're making for Atlantis at full speed!"

Libra came running up the stairs as well, confusion written plainly in his expression. "Sir, what is going on?"

"They're going after my family!"

* * *

She had already one leg out of the window when. "Lady Aemilia!"

Emily flinched and looked over to Zoe, who'd been walking through the garden. "Hi, Zoe." She greeted her innocently.

The young woman was a servant for the Pitchiner family, only about a decade older than Emily, and now she stood there with her hands on her hips. "Are you sneaking off to the boathouse again? I'm sure your mother would not approve of it."

"She doesn't need to know. It's just going to be a short trip." Emily explained. "I'll be fine, like last time, and the time before, and the twenty other times before that." She had promise her mother and father she wouldn't go out, but since her uncle Lykos had told her tales of what he and her parents had done in their childhood, she had a hard time feeling guilty.

Zoe shook her head, disapprovingly. "You'll only get into trouble, be it on sea or when you return. Is it really worth it, Milady?"

"Yes." She answered plainly, making Zoe sigh. "My father hasn't given me my own ship so it would gather dust all year long."

It seemed Zoe was thinking about this. "Well, technically I can't forbid you anything, though your mother would want me to stop you."

Suspiciously Emily frowned. "Isn't that what you've been trying to do for the past two minutes or so? Please Zoe, don't tell my mother and let me do this."

Finally the young woman gave in. "Fine; if anyone asks I haven't seen you; but don't blame me if your mother grounds you again."

Briefly the girl hugged her enthusiastically. "Thank you, thank you Zoe. Promise you won't regret it." And quickly Emily ran off, as she'd done so many times before. Fifteen minutes later, she opened the boathouse doors. Cool ocean water washed around Emily's legs, as she pushed the catamaran further from the shore. She climbed onboard, and steered north-west. It would mean going pass the mansion, but further up the coast the sea lions went fishing, and that was always a joy to watch.

…

Kozmotis jumped off the trireme before it had come to a full stop at the dock. Pain shot up his legs, but he ignored it. He was already holding his scythe combat ready, the blade hovering centimeters over the ground as he ran to the stables. People he passed jumped out of his way, surprised and briefly scared, looking after him confused. A dozen of his soldiers, including Libra and Solon ran after him, having trouble keeping up, despite the heavier armor he was wearing and the massive weapon in his hand. They had barely reached the stables, when Lord Pitch raced off again on a white horse.

He drove it through the streets, disregarding those reserved for pedestrians, be it slim alleys or wide staircases. A few times his horse slid over the smooth ground, but Kozmotis didn't slow down, never minding the angry or surprised outcries following him. His mind was too occupied, only being able to think of getting home, to make it in time before it was too late. Every shadow he passed seemed to stare at him with the all too familiar white eyes of Fearlings and Nightmare Men, taunting and murderous. Furiously Kozmotis gritted his teeth. No, he would not allow them to harm his family; he would not fail them, not today, not ever. He'd promised. Never before had he been so afraid in his life, not even when facing the monstrous shadow previous year, and panic instead of blood, seemed to be rushing through his veins, the golden locked jumping up and down on his chest. Within minutes after his arrival on the island continent, Kozmotis left the city behind him, dreadfully aware that time was running out.

…

"Get the families away from the villa. Take the horses."

"Yes, Milady."

"We will keep them occupied." Amina had arrived at the atrium, the leather vest of her hunting attire over her green dress, bow in her hand, a quiver with blessed arrows at her side.

Deeply troubled by this, the captain of the guard, Perseus, approached her. "With all due respect, Lady Pitchiner, but I'm afraid I cannot allow you to take part in this fight."

She lifted an eyebrow. "How so, Captain?"

"Your Lord Husband has charged us with protecting you and your daughter; it is our duty to keep you safe. Please, flee with the servants." He pleaded, though doubting he could convince her.

Amina looked past him, out the window from which one could see the coastline, and the small black ship. Then she spoke very calmly and factual. "They have likely come for me and my daughter; even if I ran they would only come after us. My daughter will leave with Zoe, but I will stay and give them time to escape. That is my duty, Captain."

Captain Perseus bowed. "As you wish, Milady, and we are honored to have you at our side."

"The honor is mine. Now let us banish these Pirates back to the shadows from which they came." At her words the present guards raised their weapons, letting a battle cry resound through the building.

Moments later Zoe came running to her, shame shaping her expression. "My Lady, Aemilia is not in the mansion or its garden."

Anger and fear gripped her heart. "Zoe, where is my daughter!?" Amina demanded, her hand clutching the bow.

"Just an hour ago, she sneaked off to the boathouse; she made me promise not to tell you. I'm so sorry, I didn't think any harm would come from it." The young servant girl was starting to sob, and Amina about to yell.

Then a thought crossed her mind, and she stopped herself. "Perhaps you've done well." She slowly began, for the first time glad her daughter disobeyed her. "Emily always runs away for hours, especially when she goes sailing. If the divines are with us, she'll only return when all is over. Still, take a horse and Thymos with you; flee along the coast going north-west. If you find her, stop her and take her with you."

"Yes, Milady." Zoe ran off again, straight to the stables, lifting her beige dress so she would trip over the hem. A few last minutes of hectic activity past, before the villa was all but abandoned.

The golden and green clad guards took position, spears and swords in hands, oval shields protectively in front of them. Amina readied her first arrow behind them. She calmed her breathing as much as she could, but her fear was making it difficult. Suddenly, a strong wind burst all windows open at the same time, even shattering glass, and the sound echoed through all the rooms. Everyone flinched. Far above, they could hear the hawks screaming. Nobody had bothered to get up the tower and free them.

Out of nowhere, a tall black shadow suddenly stood in front of a guard, sword dark as night risen to strike. It hadn't been there just a second ago. Without thinking, Amina fired the arrow, hitting the creature in the chest. There was a small explosion of light, and the shadow was gone, the man thrown back by a small impact wave. Quickly Amina drew another one, as out of the numerous shadows, cast by the pillars, the Dream Pirates emerged, coming upon them like demons. The first soldiers were taken out before they could raise their weapons, claws and dark blades going through them, piercing their bodies. Soon the marble floor and the gavel were covered and soaked in red blood, as the fighting truly began. Another arrow found its target, a Fearling letting itself fall from the ceiling. Amina sent arrow after arrow flying, but she knew they were outnumbered, even though the guards killed many. One man was dragged to the ground by six shadows, before a seventh stabbed him with a hooked spear. All too soon, Amina quiver was getting empty, and she saw Perseus, being stabbed in the abdomen with a saber, the body being cut open from the center to the left, spilling his guts on the floor. She shot one more arrow, and rushed downstairs; maybe she could make it down to the armory. There should be at least one other blessed weapon lying around.

She had made it down the stairs, when something tackled her from the right, from a shadow upon the wall. They came crashing through a half opened door into tailoring, where some of the women, including Zoe, would produce most of the clothing they all wore. Without thinking, Lady Pitchiner got on her feet, raised her bow in defense as if it was a shield, when the Fearling's long, sharp claws came down, aiming at her face.

The bow splintered at the impact, and Amina was forced to let it go, being pushed backwards, yet still held the last blessed arrow in her right hand. As the shadow reached out once more to finish her off, she stabbed it with the projectile, digging it deep through its throat. The arrow basically exploded inside the Fearling, and it dispersed with a brief look of surprise in its eyes, while she was thrown against a nearby wall, punching the air briefly out of her lungs. Catching her breath, Amina realized that she no longer had anything left to defend herself with, and no more screams or the clashing of weapons could be heard from above. She was completely alone.

Thinking quickly, she grabbed a small manikin, used to make Aemilia's clothing, and wrapped a cloak around it. Hissing sounds came from above, as Amina ran back to the study, just two doors further and onto the balcony. Crashing, the door came down behind her. She turned around to see a Dream Pirate in the doorway, its cold gaze wandering briefly through the room, before fixating on her on the balcony, the white curtains moving around her in the wind. It was almost two meters tall, a long black sword in its right hand, blood dripping off it. Amina fought her fear, but felt herself trembling, as she protectively pressed the manikin closer to herself. The Dream Pirate took a step closer, and she stepped back, hitting the balustrade with her lower back. "Stay away from me, shadow." Amina demanded, glad that her voice still strong and clear, despite her fear.

She hadn't expected the Nightmare Man to listen, and he approached her nonetheless, likely counting on her fear of death, fear of falling down the cliff. And she was afraid. Amina knew with sudden clarity that she would die, whether the Dream Pirate caught her or she went through with her plan. But what choice did she have; she needed to keep her daughter safe. She had to convince the shadows that Emily was dead, or they would search for her.

The Dream Pirate had almost reached her, the left hand reaching out for her with long, slim fingers. Amina turned to the manikin, and whispered to it like to a child. "Please forgive me, Kozmotis." As if the shadow had read her thoughts it leaped forward, but Amina already stood on the balustrade…and jumped off.

As she fell, Lady Pitchiner thought of her daughter and her husband. She could almost see them, as she closed her eyes tightly; Kozmo smiling warmly at her, with Emily on his arms, who was waving to her, beaming with joy. One last time Amina shed tears for them.

…

Kozmotis was riding through the meadows, as fast as his horse still could. Already he could see the mansion, and soon passed the boathouse, which had been reduced to rumble. His heart sank, when he saw the black ship anchoring just off shore, his hand clenching the scythe even tighter. No, don't let him be too late. The horse rushed through the garden, the tree-bordered path up to the front portal. From a shadow rose a Fearling, a long spear in its claws, but Kozmotis was faster, the scythe cutting effortlessly through its slim body, not even slowing down. He leaped off the horse at the stairs, and ran them up, a few shadows already closing in behind him. Mere meters from the atrium they surrounded him, and Kozmotis swung around his weapon, first cutting through the necks of those in front, lowering himself to his knees, avoiding several blades, while his now severed through torsos and then legs, until he'd turned 360°. Those who'd only lost their legs, hissed in pain, the enchantment of the blade keeping them from regenerating, as the High General stepped over the bodies of his loyal guard, their blood covering the marble floor.

"Come and face me, shadows!" Lord Pitch shouted, his voice carrying his wrath. The Dream Pirates had heard him, and began to gather around the atrium, where Kozmotis had taken position. He counted more than twenty, but that was just an estimate. "Where is my family?"

Instead of answering they attacked, with blade and claw. He sidestepped and drove his blade into one's back, bringing it around to cut another in two. Swiftly he angled his upper body, merely dodging a spear, and swung the scythe up, catching the Dream Shadow while it was still in the air with the blade over its head. Almost like a dancer, he moved among the shadows, the curved blade seemingly everywhere at once, as he turned to all directions, cutting bodies apart and separating limbs. Had it not been for the adrenalin and years of training, he would have gotten dizzy.

By that time Libra, Solon and his soldiers arrived, Kozmotis had dealt with all of them. The injured shadows tried to crawl away, but were quickly rounded up. On his way, Libra had picked up members of the Golden Guard, who went to search the surrounding area for any remaining Dream Pirates. As the battle was over, Kozmotis grabbed one of the Dream Pirates, a Nightmare Man, holding the scythe against its throat. For the first time he spoke the incantation the wizard had given him. "_Bàs na sgàile daonnan_." The blade started glowing in a pale blue. The substance of the shadow shivered violently close to the metal, as if it was cooking oil, and it stared at the blade, seemingly terrified. This was not an enchantment it knew, but something more powerful, more dangerous to it.

Kozmotis didn't let it get away, no matter how hard it tried to move away from the scythe. "Where is my wife, shadow?" He snarled dangerously, the harsh tone of his usually smooth voice, even scaring his own men somewhat, his next words almost uttered in a shout. "Where is my daughter?!"

…

No, this hadn't happened. This was only a dream, only a nightmare. Emily sat on her little vessel, watching the mansion from a distance, limbs wrapped around the mast, as if she was hoping it would hug her in return. Hot tears ran down her cheeks, as she sobbed soundly and alone. Just moments ago Emily had seen how her mother had jumped of a balcony into the bay below, a shadowy figure right behind her, stopping at the balustrade. Her own body was now trembling, her mind at turmoil.

How had the shadows gotten here? Hadn't her father gone to stop them? Her heart seemed to give out. Had they killed him? No, no, no; no shadow could kill him, he was the High General of the Golden Fleet, no one fought better than him…but then, where was he?

Something in the back of her mind, made her suddenly aware that she was in danger as well. The Dream Pirates would certainly come for her too, and if she could see them, they could spot her soon, when they look in this particular direction. Still trembling, her vision blurry from the tear, Emily got back on her feet. She knew there was a hamlet further up the coast, and perhaps it was possible to reach it, even if that meant going into unknown waters. From there it would be easy enough to reach the capital, someone was sure to give her a horse, after all she was a Pitchiner; she was Lord Pitch's daughter.

The catamaran got moving again, and Emily sailed away from her home, going north-west. She steered it around reefs, until after a while she no longer knew her way around. The coast was blocked by rocks, and she was sure more were just below the line of water, so she headed further away from land. For some time everything went smoothly, sailing parallel to the coastline, until her ship was pulled to the side. Emily changed the position of her sail to better catch the wind, but it only slowed the catamaran down. She was trapped in a strong current, and it was pulling her into the open sea! Panic rushed through her veins, but no matter how hard she tried, the vessel would not return on course. Her parents had warned her, told her of the dangers of the local currents, but she'd never imagined them to be this strong. Further and further away she drifted, until defeated she gave up. All strength, be it of body or mind had left her, and so Emily crawled into a ball on the network, sobbing again, as Atlantis grew smaller and smaller.

…

Soundly his scythe fell to the gravel of the atrium, metal hitting on stone. Fright and panic was holding his heart in a tight grip, and he let go off the Nightmare Man, who quivered and faded away, too weakened by the enchantment of the scythe even though the blade had never touched him, and Kozmotis rushed down the staircase, through the corridor, and finally over the broken pieces of the study's door. He threw aside the white curtains, almost getting tangled up in them, stopping himself just in time at the balustrade of the balcony. Anxiously his eyes scanned the bay below, only seeing waves crashing brutally against the rocks. No, no, no; it could not be true! Kozmotis thought he saw something thrown around by the waves, and immediately headed for the staircase. Several times he barely managed not to stumble over his own feet, until he reached the stony coast.

Kozmotis was only slowed down as he ran into the ocean, his clothing gaining significant weight by absorbing the water. He fought his way through the waves, some of which threaten to push him back or off his feet entirely. Soon they reached up to his chest; by then he'd almost reached her. Amina was being carried by the water, her green dress and open hair spread around her. He reached out for her, feeling hot tears emerging in his eyes. With hands, trembling from his despair as well as the cool water, Kozmotis pulled her closer to him, one arm going under the hollow of her knees, the other around her back, resting her against his torso. Her head sagged forward and to the side, leaning at his chest. This was not, it could not real; it had to be another nightmare, another vision by the shadows. Frantically he turned his head to all direction, but Emily was nowhere to be seen. With Amina in his arms he returned to the shore.

Once he'd reached the beach, he sank to his knees, all strengh leaving his legs, and for a moment staring at his beloved in disbelieve, part of him unwilling to accept this. He was breathing heavily at this point, and as he carefully lowered her to his lap, her head fell back. Helplessly he briefly looked around, but there was no one around, and he threw his head back, loudly crying out into the sky, a sound of pain, rage and despair. The waves bathed around him still.

Slowly he turned back to her again, removing the arm from underneath her legs, and instead guiding his hand to her face. So very carefully he lifted her head, framing her face with his hand as if he feared she would fade beneath his touch. Amina soft skin felt so cold, even to his stiff fingers. Gently he leaned his forehead against hers, then kissed it lovingly, feeling a tear falling upon her cheek. For some time he just remained sitting there, finding himself unable and unwilling to move, just keeping her body against his, just holding her close.

Eventually, Kozmotis found the strength to stand again. Carefully he placed his wife on the dry rocks; it was so difficult to let go of her, as if all hope would leave him if he did. But he had to look for Emily. He search up and down the bay, followed the coast to where the current would have most likely taken her, all the while calling out her name, growing more and more desperate as time went on. She was nowhere to be seen. It was like the ocean had swallowed his daughter. After what felt like an eternity he gave up, his throat and mouth dry from shouting. His hands ran through his hair, before clenching it, nails digging into his palms painfully. In a single day he had lost his wife, his daughter, everything he cared for. Kozmotis felt like breaking apart, and some part of his mind wanted him to throw himself into the waves, or take the scimitar at his side.

He did neither, and eventually returned to the bay, and Amina. The tide was coming in, and already the waves had reached her, drenching the dress once more. Carefully Kozmotis took her into his arms like before, and carried her up the stairs, water still dripping from both of them, her long hair almost touching the steps. Kozmotis could feel her growing heavier and heavier in his arms, but climbed on regardless. When he'd reached the atrium, the tears had dried; his face would have seemed to a casual beholder calm and collected, though his eyes betrayed the turmoil and pain. His soldiers had rounded up the Dream Pirates, which were all now cowering on their knees in a single line. No one dared to speak when the High General walked in, the lifeless body of his wife in his arms, and he gently placed her on a bench, as if she was merely sleeping. For a moment he had his back turned to all of them, kneeling next to her, brushing a strain of hair from her pale face.

Slowly he rose, and took his scythe again. It was still glowing blue. He didn't speak, just walked up to the prisoners, his eyes having turned cold and for a moment almost indifferent. He stood there next to the outer right Dream Pirate, hand clenching his weapon tightly. Then the shadow looked up. For a few seconds both the General and the Pirate looked each other in the eyes, and the silence grew more uncomfortable. Suddenly, and without warning, pure rage flared up in Lord Pitch's eyes, and his scythe swung up, on its way, beheading three shadows at once, turning them into mist. Pitch sunk to his knees, using his weapon like a staff to keep himself upright though. Shocked his men watched, only now realizing what he'd done. He had not simply vanquished their physical form, he'd outright and with full intend destroyed them, and it had weakened him severely.

As he was catching his breath, panting as he kneeled there, the Dream Pirates seemed suddenly distressed, also realizing that they were actually in danger. The soldier still wouldn't move, some exchanging question glances, unsure of what to do next. Lord Pitch came back to his feet, and staggering, walked to the other prisoners. They tried to move away, but the magic was holding them in place. It was then that for the first time the Atlantians saw something almost fear-like in their pale murderous eyes, just before the General's scythe came down again. He walked through the prisoners like the Grim Reaper himself, growing weaker with every strike, until none was left.

Only then did Lord Pitch allow himself to sink onto his knees again, letting his scythe fall to the ground in front of him. He leaned forward, his hands clenching into the gavel, his body shivering. The soldiers saw blood running from between his fingers. "Leave me." It was hardly more than a whisper, but more than loud enough in the utter silence. Still, no one moved. They could hear him inhale the air. "Leave me alone!"

It got them all out of their paralysis, and one after the other they left the atrium through the front door, as quietly as their armor allowed. Solon briefly stopped at the door and looked back, but Kozmotis still had his head lowered, tears hitting the gravel, and so he left as well.

…

Kozmotis searched his daughters for days, starting only an hour after the execution, his men travelling along the coast, both on land and on water, others following currents that could have carried her away from the bay, but to no avail. She remained lost. On the properties however they founds those who hadn't made it in time to escape, among them Thymos and the servant Zoe, who for some reason seemed to have made a detour to the beach. Kozmotis himself did not allow himself any sleep, though at this point he had little to no hope left of finding his Emily alive. Officer Libra encouraged him to go home, while he would continue the search, seeing Lord Pitch's condition. It took Nikomedes almost all day to convince him, and eventually Kozmotis returned home, or whatever was left of it. The days without sleep, the fight and the search, but most of all the death of his family finally took their toll, and in full armor, he collapsed onto the floor and fell into an uneasy, guild plagued sleep, as soon as he'd reached his bedchamber.

* * *

Lykos returned to Atlantis three days after the attack. He had received the news on his way back, and as soon as the ship was anchored he took a horse and headed for the Pitchiner mansion. It was raining that day, the sky was grey, and soon he was drenched, rendering his cloak and hood useless. When he reached the villa, the first thing Lykos noticed was how abandoned the properties looked; no horses on the meadows, or people tending to them, the trees covered with marks from blades and claws. He rode to the front portal, where two golden clad soldiers were standing guard. They saluted when Lykos climbed the stairs.

"At ease." He spoke. "Where can I find the High General?"

"Last he's been seen in his chambers, captain." One answered him.

Lykos merely nodded and went inside. The signs of battle could be seen here as well; cuts in the wall, destroyed furniture and a few remaining stains of blood. It was unsettling how quiet the mansion was. Usually people would walk these halls, chatting with one another, servants and guards alike. From somewhere outside the laughter of children would come, and the neighing of horses in the stables. Now there was only the wind blowing through the chambers, and the occasional rustling of leaves. It was like visiting a tomb.

Upstairs, Lykos found his old friend, sitting on the ground, back against the bed. In his hands he held a small oval locket. Even as Lykos knocked against the open door, Kozmotis didn't look up, eyes fixed on the small golden object. He looked worse off than after a battle; his white coat was covered with grey and black stains, his black hair was a mess, a few strains hanging over his face. Dark rings had appeared around his eyes, and he hadn't shaven in a while, so beard stubbles were starting to show.

For a while Lykos waited there in the doorway, uncertain how to start, until with a low voice the other man began. "The last time I saw them, Emily gave me this." Carefully he closed the locket. "I've failed them, Lykos."

"Don't you dare say that."

For the first time Kozmotis looked up, obviously puzzled, yet angry. Not with Lykos but himself. "They died because I wasn't here, when they needed me most." His hand now grabbed the locket more tightly.

"Would you have stayed here until the end of the war, hadn't that report reached you? At some point you would have eventually set out again, and the shadows would have come. If it hadn't happened three days ago, it would have happened during your next journey." Lykos glared at him, hating to be so harsh. "It pains me to say it, believe me, but this was inevitable."

"I should have assigned more guards." Pitchiner spoke, his face hidden behind a hand, which muffled his words a little. "I should have brought them to the city; there they would have been save."

"Until now there was no reason to believe this mansion was in any danger. We all thought Atlantis was safe."

"Why are you saying this? My mistakes, my errors in judgment killed your sister and your niece." Some fire had returned into his eyes, but it burned with self-loathing. "I didn't expect words of comfort." He admitted

"I say this because I know you, old friend. I know how much you loved them, and I know that you did everything you could; Kozmotis Pitchiner was never someone to do anything less." The other man explained calmly, sitting down against the wall next to the door adjacent to the bed. "You are not to blame for what happened to them. Only the shadows are."

For a long time there was silence; Kozmotis was once more beholding the locket in his hands, while Lykos had his eyes closed and his head was leaning back against the wall. He sat there and waited for Kozmotis to reply something, and he did so patiently. Lykos had already shed his own tears, and would share plenty more in the days to come, but that was not what his friend needed right now. He needed to get his friend out of that hole he'd fallen into.

"You are right." Kozmotis slowly began his voice so low Lykos could barely hear him. "Had it not been for the shadows they'd both be still alive…and countless others. I have been too merciful with them."

"I've heard what you've done with the prisoners here. There was hardly any mercy in you that day." There was a hint of accusation in his words.

Suddenly Kozmotis was on his feet, anger and pain so strong and plainly written upon his face. "Would have done anything else? Would you have fed the creatures that slaughtered your daughter and wife? Would you have been merciful after you held her cold body in your arms, knowing her eyes would never open, knowing her lips would never again speak to you again." There was a short break, and his next words were spoken slower, quieter. "When you realize you have broken every promise, every vow you'd once given to them?"

Lykos found no words. He wanted to protest, but who could have thought rationally on such a day, when your entire world crumbled before you? It would be naïve to think one would have acted differently, put into the same situation. And so he said nothing, only meeting his friends gaze. After a while Kozmotis wandered to a window, and looked out upon the ocean, watching the rain.

When he spoke again Kozmotis voice was calm and factual, and even though Lykos felt much the same rage inside him, it was frightening, because it was the honorable, noble Kozmotis Pitchiner who said it. "It was a mistake to treat them like any human foe we've faced. I will hunt them down; each and every shadow that still roams free. I want them either slain or locked up for all eternity." He made it sound like it was no most ordinary thing in the world, and it was more terrifying than anything ever uttered in rage.

* * *

Once more a large crowd had gathered in the temple, but this time it was quiet, and even if someone spoke it was only whispered to those next to him. Banners had been removed from the streets, only two hanging now from the pillars flanking the altar. One showed the Pitchiner sigil, the black horse on a soft green field, while the other showed the Sagittarius', a grey wolf, flanked by arrows on dark green. Even though the constellation was said to show a centaur, the wolf had been chosen as it and its descendants, had accompanied hunters for millennia.

On the altar a pyre had been built, the smell of oil heavy upon it. Kozmotis stood at the base of the stairs leading up to it, dressed completely in black, as was everyone else. The only color he wore was the golden locket around his neck. Next to him was Lykos, standing between him and Pitchiner's stepparents. They hadn't spoken to him since the day of the attack, and frankly he wasn't too eager to change that. Not for now at least. Shortly before the Archpriest came, the two kings arrived. Thais Aquarius and his wife, approached him, and the general bowed. "Our deepest sympathy for you, Lord Pitchiner." Kozmotis merely nodded his thanks, before they moved on to Lykos and Lord and Lady Sagittarius.

Tsar and Tsarina Lunar were next, and Kozmotis wanted to bow before them as well, but she placed a comforting hand on his folded ones. Her voice was warm and gentle as she spoke. "Our hearts and prayers are with you these days, Kozmotis."

"Thank you, my Queen."

Ever since he'd come to the temple, everyone had approached him with much the same words, and even though most meant what they said, by now they began to sound hollow, and little comfort came from them. But what could truly give comfort to him anyway?

Kozmotis didn't paid full attention to the priest's long speech. Throughout the war he heard these blessings and prayers all too often, and he didn't believe he could take it, now that they were spoken for his family. He never had wanted to hear them for his wife, and never had he believed to hear them for his daughter. No parent should be forced to outlive their child.

Then came the part of the ceremony he was dreading. He walked to the priest, halfway up the stairs, and received a small bowl, holding a flame. The bowl was surprisingly cool in his hands. "May their souls be freed from their shackles, and find peace on the other side." The priest spoke solemnly.

"May no evil ever befall them again, in eternity." Kozmotis finished. "And their memory be honored."

He climbed the last stairs, up to the altar. Once more he looked at Amina, lying there in a white dress, hands folded, holding the broken handle of the bow he'd so long ago carved for her. White and yellow blossoms were placed upon her open hair, framing most of her body, her lovely face, which look so peacefully, as if she was merely sleeping. He almost couldn't do it. He was not ready to let go.

With trembling hands Kozmotis slowly placed the small bowl at the pile, and pulled them away as the oil covered wood caught quickly fire. Higher and higher the flames crawled, until they reached Amina, and soon she was but a shade behind a veil of orange and red. Kozmotis wanted to shed tears for her, but they dried immediately in the heat. The smoke rose up into the stone dome, exiting through the center oculus. Due to the lack of wind that day, the trail of smoke went up straight outside, to be seen across most of the island continent.

For what felt like an eternity, Kozmotis let the heat of the fire wash over him, and he welcomed the pain. His tearing eyes were fixed on Amina, at least what he could see of her. Some part of his mind could still not believe this all had really happened, but there was no escaping reality. And so Kozmotis watched, torn inside, how his wife faded from the world.

…

Sometime later, night had fallen over Atlantis, and the temple was all but abandoned. No light burned, only the moon shone dimly through the small windows and the oculus. The latter created a beam of light, falling upon the altar covered with ash. It was customary that only on the following day the ashes would be gathered with the first light of morning. Kozmotis still sat in front of it, and now that the tears could run again, they cut bright lines upon his skin, on which a thin layer of black ash had settled, giving most of his face a greyish complexion.

All alone he whispered to himself an old song, one Amina had used to sing to their daughter, when she'd been younger. A few years ago, Emily had decided she was getting too old for them. The softly spoken words echoed ghostly in the dome, as he kept his eyes close, trying to picture Amina sitting on Emily's bed, singing this very song with her beautiful voice, while he stood smiling at the door, watching, listening. Never again would it be anything more but a memory. Tears fell upon the marble steps.

He stayed there throughout the entire night, and kept watch over the dead, over his family.

* * *

The sea was calm, with only small waves carrying the catamaran on its way. The current had brought it and its passenger far from Atlantis. The mast had broken off in a storm, but luckily Emily had managed to hold on the network. Her palms were now covered with barely healed cuts, and she was shivering from the cold and hunger. She was so thirsty, and close to passing out at this point. Exhausted the girl watched the waves beneath the network, lying there flat on her stomach. Somehow she found the strength to lift her head, and saw a coastline. The sight lifted her spirit, and she licked over her dried up lips, tasting salt. Maybe she'd survive this yet.

A minute later Aemilia was unconscious.

…

It was truly a pleasant day, the sun high in the air, and little wind, cool and refreshing. Typhan was walking along the beach of the island he called home for about three decades, his sandals sinking deep into the sand. Somewhere further down his way, seagulls had gathered, circling low, and screaming excited about something. The old hermit grew curious and picked up his pace; it had been a while since anything interesting had happened. To his surprise Typhan found a strange, small craft that had been washed ashore. It had two hulls and the mast was missing. Someone was on it as well. Typhan started running when he saw it was a young girl. The seagulls flew away, scared off by the hermit.

The girl was maybe ten, dressed in trousers and a shirt made of fine cloth, like those of Atlantian nobles, though now it was drenched in water, and clung tightly to her slender body. Her night black hair was wavy and covered most of her face and back. Typhan checked her pulse, and was greatly relieved to find one, though she was cold. Gods knew how long she'd been out on sea. He picked her up and wrapped her in his cloak, before carrying her to his home. Somewhere along the way she stirred, and whispered weakly. "Father?" Typhan had not the heart to tell her no, and within seconds she had drifted back into sleep.

* * *

**Characters from the original books: **Kozmotis Pitchiner, Lady (Amina) Pitchiner, Emily Jane Pitchiner, Ombric Shalazar, Tsar & Tsarina Lunar, Tsar (Badr) Lunar/MiM, Sandman (Chrysos), Nightlight (Zopyros), Typhan, Dream Pirates/Fearlings/Nightmare Men

**Lady Pitchiner: **In the books it's only said that she killed herself, jumping out a window with a dummy doll, the Dream Pirates watching. The woman I described however, I think would not have gone down without a fight. By the way, I've checked options for_ Guardians of Childhood series_ characters, and she's not even listed. What the hell, honestly. You can add things like fog, moonbeam and moonmice ect., but not Pitch's wife, the woman he loved and cared for, mother of his only daughter, whose death was part of what drove him to hunt down all Dream Pirates and guard their prison(kind of essential), and certainly affected Emily/Mother Nature quite a bit. What did I miss?

**Something I've noticed** while I was looking up Greek names, is that kosmos, from which Kozmotis likely derives, means order and decency.

**Spells: **I've chosen Scottish-Gaelic for the spells because I wanted something different from the Greek theme, and it always reminds me of _Lord of the Rings._ Plus, when thinking magic, one of the first things coming into my mind are druids. Now I have no idea about grammar, these are just words taken from an online German to Scottish Gaelic dictionary, put together so they sound somewhat decent.

_Solas làmh_: Solas=light/light source, làmh=hand

_Bàs na sgàile daonnan_: bàs=death, na=an article, sgàile=shadow/ghost/shade, doannan=permanently/always

Melinoe; one of several names the Geek goddess Hecate was also referred by, who was associated with magic and witchcraft among others…, quite a few others.

Euthalia=bloom, flower

Aspasia=welcome, embrace

...and now that this particular chapter is finished; where is my whisky...


	5. Justice or Revenge

**Chapter V**

Aclippe's hooves sank deep into the sand, salt crystals having gathered in his mane and fur. Once more Kozmotis was riding along the coast, still looking for his daughter, even though there was no reason to believe she was still alive. Only Lykos and Ombric had dared to tell him, and though in his heart Kozmotis knew this to be true, he couldn't bring himself to give up just yet. He needed to do something, anything, even if it was pointless.

After hours, he got off his horse and began to walk, leading Aclippe by the harness. He felt empty and drained, his gaze wandering over the coast and the ocean. Since the funeral he hadn't returned to the mansion, keeping himself occupied with two objectives; finding Aemilia, and preparing a campaign against the Dream Pirates, to end their threat once and for all. While it was still a mystery where they came from, the black ships had always come from the north, and over the years, Kozmotis had sent out scouting vessels, allowing him to rule out vast areas. However, they still had the Nightmare Man from Euthalia, and Trismegistus was interrogating the shadow for some days now. They had tried to get information out of others before, but without success.

Tired, Pitchiner sat down on a dry lock that had been washed ashore, looking out at the sea, where still ships were searching for Aemilia. Never had he imagined his life to take such a turn; he'd wanted to see his daughter grow up, and to spent his days with Amina at his side as the years pass. That had been the idea, the expected course of their lives ever since the day they'd been married.

Kozmotis still remembered that day clearly; the ceremony in the temple, and the celebration in Atlantis, which had lasted for two days. Only then had they returned home, for the first time as husband and wife, glad to finally have some time to themselves.

…

Amina was in the library putting away the last presents, a couple of books given to them by representatives of the sage's guild. She was still wearing her wedding dress, colored in white and purple, ornamented with golden embroidery, her wavy brown hair bound together with a golden ribbon. Kozmotis entered the large room, hiding something behind his back. He was dressed in the same colors, though he wore a deep purple jacket, reaching down to his knees, with a high collar over a white shirt. He stopped just behind her.

"Alone at last." She said, as she turned around, smiling warmly at him.

"Had it been up to me, we would have left just after the ceremony."

"I think we can make up for the last two days." Her eyes saw that he was holding something. "What do you have there?" Amina asked curiously, but one eyebrow lifted suspiciously.

A smile spread across his face. "Another gift." He explained. "But this one is from me." Kozmotis revealed a long object, covered by a white cloth, a green ribbon wrapped around it, the very same the priest had tied around their folded hands as he'd wed them.

"Kozmo, you didn't need to…" It wasn't customary that the married couple exchanged gifts when they got married; each present they received was supposed to be something they could share.

"What's the point of giving a present when you're obligated? Can't I please my wife with a little something just because I want to?" He asked hopefully.

Slowly, Amina took the gift, his look expectant as she removed the ribbon and then the cloth. It revealed a bow, made of dark wood, black leather wrapped around the grip, fine silver plates surrounding it, crafted into small leaves, and more at the nocks, at which the bowstring was attached to. "It's beautiful." Her reaction delighted and relieved Kozmotis. He was about to reply something, when she threw her arms around his neck. "Thank you, Kozmo."

He laid his arms around her. "I'm glad you like it."

"So this is why you've spent so much time in Kyrillos' workshop."

"I needed it to be finished for today, after all." He managed to explain before she kissed him. Her lips were soft, but fierce against his, and he returned the kiss eagerly and without hesitation. Barely Kozmotis noticed that she was putting the bow aside, placing it on the nearby armchair.

Her fingers began to work on his jacket. "I'd like to reward you for your kindness." Amina purred between kisses.

"As you wish, Milady." And smirking, he carried her to their bedchamber.

…

Kozmotis returned to reality when Aclippe nudged him with his muzzle, the dark, intelligent eyes of the stallion regarding him calmly. Sometimes this horse seemed to have the character of a dog. Mustering a smile, Kozmotis stroked the animal over the head. "Come." He told Aclippe, getting up. "Let us return to Atlantis."

* * *

Atlantis' armory was a great complex, filled with golden coated armor, light to wear, made of interlocking plates to allow the greatest possible mobility. Thousands of weapons stood ready and sharpened; swords, axes, lances, spears, bows with an uncountable number of arrows, most of which were now blessed. Sages of the guild roamed the great hall, enchanting the last pieces of equipment, preparing them for the coming campaign.

In a smaller room, reserved for the High General's equipment, Ombric and Tsar Badr Lunar kept themselves busy. With something that looked a bit like a crochet hook, Ombric burned runes into one of the gauntlets, around the Atlantian tree.

Tsar Badr had only recently learned the art of enchanting. It was a difficult process, as an inanimate object had to be imbued with magic, not just energy but a specific spell. For this purpose sages fed their own modified energy into the object, using their own blood to convey it; Ombric had pricked himself with the hook earlier, while whispering the intended spell. For a brief moment the blood had lightened up in a soft blue, before Ombric had begun to burn the runes into the metal. This technique also meant that a wizard could only enchant a small number of items at a time, before they needed to recover their strength. There were a few stories about the first to try enchanting, most of which ended with the wizard putting too much power into the object. They had stopped before it had killed them, but had never fully recovered, suddenly aged by decades. As long as a wizard avoided mistakes like that however, their life expectancy exceeded by far that of other people. Some sages even stored energy in small vessels, usually crystals, so they could call upon it again to either boost spells, or prolong their lives.

After a while Tsar spoke again. "I haven't seen Lord Pitch since the funeral."

Saddened Ombric nodded, without looking up from his work. "He searches for her still. This loss has left its mark, and I doubt he will ever fully recover from it."

Somewhat dejected, the young novice looked at the ground. "I still can hardly believe it happened." Tsar Badr said with a low voice.

"No one truly can…or at the very least wants to believe it." Ombric interrupted the enchantment. "And maybe that was the intent."

His gaze went up to his mentor. "To sow fear?"

"In a sense." The Archmage agreed. "Kozmotis has spent years fighting them, and he's responsible for bringing thousands into the prison we constructed. He leads our fleet, we call him High Protector of Atlantis, and it stands to reason that he has come to represent us; defeat him, defeat Atlantis." There was a short pause, in which Ombric took a slightly deeper breath, as he regarded his handiwork thoughtfully. When he spoke again his voice was quieter, and he was speaking a little slower. "We have grown comfortable, convinced that we could hold the shadows off until we had them all imprisoned. They have proven we were wrong, which is naturally frightening."

"And it will strengthen them." Tsar Badr concluded grimly.

The wizard nodded. "Yes; and the longer this war will last now, the more doubt will grow, and as useful as it can be at times, doubt can make one very susceptible to fear. If we don't end this soon, this conflict might never end, or they are going to defeat us eventually."

"But if we succeed in improving the _bàs na sgàile_ spell…"

"We haven't made any progress with it in months." Ombric reminded him; he'd neglected to tell the General that little detail, when he'd given him the scythe. "We should be grateful that it's no longer lethal to the user." Another detail he'd failed to mention; the young sage falling into a coma however had been the truth, even though it had occurred sometime later.

"So all we can do now is help Lord Pitch with his campaign, and trust that he can defeat the Dream Pirates once and for all." Something still bothered the young Lord Lunar. "To allow him enact his revenge…could it not be damaging? Maybe if someone else was to lead the fleet this one time."

"I have asked myself the same question, but denying him to fight and to bring to justice those who've killed Amina and Aemilia might be just as damaging. Neither of us can foretell how the coming battle will affect him, but we should allow it for another reason: No one else has been more successful against the Dream Pirates, and the men believe that their General is the only person alive who does not fear them, maybe even that he is the only one who can defeat them. To remove him from this campaign would invite doubt and fear within our ranks. Kozmotis must go, for himself and for them, whether it is truly the right thing for him to do or not." His student let these words sink in for a while, before Ombric added to further assure him. "Just to be safe, I have asked Lord Lykos and Lord Libra to keep an eye on him, and captain Scorpio is certainly a very mindful man in his own right. I have no doubt that they can handle anything these next weeks will throw at them."

Without replying Tsar Badr nodded acceptingly, and Ombric returned to his work. Lunar prayed the General would find his peace after the coming fight, though a nagging doubt still lingered in the back of his mind, despite his mentor's words.

* * *

From the valley the warm air rose along the mountain side, all the way to the temple of the Oneiroi. Very close to the edge of a particular steep part of said mountain, Chrysos had made himself comfortable, letting the wind mess with his blond hair. He had to hold on to the papyrus in his hands, its sides fluttering wildly. A map was drawn upon it with black ink, and though the outlines of the known countries around Epirus were done well enough, there were hardly any details; a few cities were mention, along with the connecting roads, though if they'd been drawn in correctly was certainly up for debate.

For a while now Chrysos was entertaining the thought of leaving the temple, to travel around and help those haunted by shadows in other parts of the world. Language wouldn't be that much of a problem; he wasn't the talkative type anyway, but he could see the dreams of others, if he focused tap into their thoughts, which for some curious reason he could always understand, regardless of the owner's origin. It was as if minds had their own universal language.

No, the real problem was safety. Going alone would be suicidal, but Chrysos was considering joining one of the merchants, travelling through the hamlet. Usually they were entire families, going from place to place, selling and buying, while others followed the same route annually, before returning home late autumn. Perhaps he could convince someone to take him with them on their journey, at least to another town or hamlet on their way. Already, Chrysos had decided he would go north first, where he hoped his unusually blond hair would not stand out as much.

A particular strong breeze almost tore the papyrus from his hands, and he pulled it closer to himself. There was another reason why he was out here. A few days ago Eusebios had gotten sick, coughing often, his hands had started trembling and he let things slip his grasp. Chrysos had tried to assist him, but the priest still had his pride, and refused any help, even sending him away. It was as if he didn't want his student to see him like that. Chrysos feared for the old man, who was like a father to him, but there seemed to be nothing he could do; Eusebios had even sent away the priest of Apollo, who had come by the other day.

Only a little while later Chrysos heard footsteps behind him, softened by the grass. "It is dangerous to sit that close to the edge."

The young priest turned his head, looking over his shoulder to see his mentor. He smiled apologetically, not having his tablet around to write an answer.

Eusebios came closer, until he stood right next to him. "What are you studying so intensely?"

Very slowly, Chrysos showed him the map.

"Why are you studying maps? And yes, I've found the others you keep under your bed."

Ashamed, Chrysos looked at the ground.

Eusebios sighed. "I know you must feel trapped here, but the world out there is dangerous, especially for someone so young and with such compromised means of communication."

The novice pulled a face; the priest knew fully well how Chrysos could enter the minds of others, when he focused, and he never left the house without his tablet. Today had been an exception…and well, maybe he was right about defending himself.

"Don't make that face." Eusebios scolded. "As difficult as it is to believe, I too was once young, but I accepted my role as a priest, a servant of the Oneiroi, and so will you in time. Now, you will put away those maps, and focus on your duties; keep your dreams and ambitions on something feasible. Tomorrow you can start with swabbing the temple hall." With that the old man turned around, and headed back to the temple, the novice staring at him with some frustration. What he planned to do was possible, he knew it, and he would not give up until he'd tried.

Inexplicably, the priest stopped on his way, and Chrysos frustration turned into concern. Then Eusebios started coughing again, loud, violently, the boy was quickly at his side to support him, allowing him to put one hand on his student's shoulder. The priest held the other hand at his mouth, while he coughed. Suddenly, blood dripped from his fingers.

* * *

Close to Atlantis' coast, visible from the harbor was a small island with a single white tower, a lighthouse. Every night a large fire burned at the top, guiding the sailors; especially in the Atlantian realm, with all its reefs, knowing once position was essential, and many a shipwreck had been prevented thanks to the tower. Now that place served an additional purpose. The Nightmare Man from Euthalia was being kept there, guarded by the Golden Guard and interrogated by the Archmage Trismegistus.

Kozmotis walked down the narrow staircase into the cellar, passed several Guards, who had taken position along the way, then through a long corridor, lit by several torches. A single door at the very end of the corridor was being guarded, and as the General reached it, the man in front of it knocked twice against the wood. Five seconds later Trismegistus opened the door and came out.

"Milord, are you here to inspect our progress?" The old man looked tired, and even a little annoyed.

"Among others." Kozmotis admitted. "Have you learned anything from the shadow?"

The wizard nodded. "It told me how they got to Euthalia…with some pride." Trismegistus said, before taking a sip from one of the goblet, sitting on the table next to the prison door. "They snuck onboard our ships, one or two at a time, hiding in the shadows. Once enough had gathered on the island they brought nightmares, sowed fear among the people, and when they sent for help, all but our prisoner created the black ship and set sail."

Quietly Kozmotis nodded; it was a start. "Nothing else?"

"No, nothing but threats. I have tried to reason with it, I have threatened it myself, and I'm ashamed to say, I've resorted to…torture." The wizard seemed highly uncomfortable with the latter, and it told of his desperation. "I don't think we'll get the information you need from it. I'm getting nowhere." He admitted, shame in his voice.

"It must want to tell us." Kozmotis began slowly, his gaze having wandered to the door behind which the shadow was being kept. "Perhaps a more indirect approach will help."

A little intrigued Trismegistus regarded him. "You have an idea how to get it to talk?"

"One more." He turned back to the wizard. "I hope you're a decent actor."

…

The Nightmare Man had turned itself into a black pool at the floor, resting and waiting patiently as any predator would. The wizard had interrogated it for days to no avail, and the Nightmare Man didn't care much for pain, much less feared it. It knew that at some point the Atlantian would give up, and either bring it to that infernal prison, or kill it, which meant the shadow would merely return to the mountain.

A few minutes ago the sage had left it to speak with another mortal, their General as it turned out. They had entered together through the door, but remained there at first. Curious the Dream Pirate watched them talk, though it couldn't hear the words spoken from this distance. Had it been anything else but a shadow upon the ground it would have grinned; it knew of the success of its ilk, the death of the General's family, which gave it a certain satisfaction. If only it could feel the fear that was no doubt spreading among the people even now.

The Nightmare Man's thoughts were interrupted when it saw the two Atlantian coming closer, still conversing. The first words it could make out were spoken by the wizard. "Going to their lair will be dangerous, even suicidal."

"I am well aware that it's their territory, and that we're going to be at a major disadvantage, but I will not sit around and wait any longer." The General replied, his voice indicating that he was brimming with anger and impatience. The two men stopped on their way to the cage of light, seemingly unaware that the Nightmare Man could hear them just fine by now, even from a distance. "Those monsters killed my family."

The wizard took a deep breath. "I know, Milord, but even if we were to know the location of their lair, it would be a long and draining journey. Once you reach it, the men might be too exhausted to even fight the Dream Pirates; you'd be offering them your fleet."

"I do not need to be lectured by a sage, who has hardly ever left the city on matters of warfare. All I've asked you to do was to get the information out of our prisoner. If I want your opinion on anything else I shall let you know, Archmage."

The older man looked rather insulted, his nostrils flaring, his teeth grinding, but he kept his mouth shut. Meanwhile the shadow considered what he'd listened to. Yes, why not lead the Atlantians to the lightless mountain? Nowhere else the shadows were as powerful as in their own home, the place of their creation and rebirth, and a mortal ship would require weeks to reach it, far out on the sea, where there were no other islands nearby, no support or a chance to restock supplies. Hungry, thirsty, overtired and frightened, the Dream Pirates would massacre those arrogant humans, who dared to believe they could defeat fear itself. Oh, how they would pay for their hubris, the Nightmare Man mused in cruel delight. The darkness would consume them.

When the two men eventually reached its prison, the shadow got itself back into a defined shape, but appeared to them as weak and fragile. "_Spare us the torture, noble Atlantians. Show us the mercy you are renowned for, and our knowledge shall be at your disposal._" It whined pathetically. "_We promise, but no more light. We are fear, we are darkness; it pains us more than you can imagine._" All the time it made itself shiver, as if it had trouble keeping a solid form.

"You've told me it was uncooperative." The General noted coldly, his gaze wandering back to the wizard, who seemed baffled by the shadow's behavior.

"It was, I swear." There was suspicion in his look, as he regarded the Dream Pirate. "This is surprising to say the least, though I'd be glad if my interrogation has finally paid off."

"_We are fear, human, we know it better than anything else, and so we are not completely immune to it ourselves._"

"I can vouch for that." The General growled quietly, his fists clenching, as he fought to control his anger.

"_We will show you our home, General, but no more light…not the Scythe._" This time the shiver was real. The Nightmare Man knew of the death of its kin by the General; every other shadow had felt it, as those at the mansion had disappeared from the world without a trace, leaving nothing to be reborn in the darkness of the mountain. Prior they hadn't believed such a thing was even possible, and it was deeply troubling, but maybe now they could slaughter the Atlantians before they all carried weapons of such power.

"Then I hope for your sake that you'll answer honestly."

…

Trismegistus closed the door behind him. "Who knew; it did work." There was great relief in his voice.

"Apologies for my insolence in there, Archmage." Kozmotis told him, allowing himself to relax. The hatred for the shadow had not been played.

The sage only lifted his hand to stop him, shaking his head a little. "Think nothing of it; it was all played I hope."

Weakly Kozmotis smiled. "Of course, but I though appearing a little headstrong would be helpful."

"You'll be taking it with you on the campaign, I presume?" It was really more an establishment, than a question, and the General confirmed his assumption.

"Yes; a mere description is little helpful on the open sea, and I trust your sages will keep it in check. After that it can join its ilk on Umbra."

Together they began to walk through the corridor, heading to the stairs. When they'd almost reached them, the sage spoke again. "Now that this is done, I will join Ombric for the final preparations. Are you sure about your plan?"

Kozmotis nodded. "I am; I'm afraid it's the only way to get them all."

"Someone else could do your part in it." Trismegistus reminded him hopefully.

"I appreciate your concern, but this is something I must do, and if the past is any indication I may actually survive to tell the tale." Something about the way he said the last part sounded unconvinced, but the wizard decided to ignore it. On the other hand, Kozmotis appeared to have no doubt about the first.

"I'll pray to the divines that you are right." The Archmage went on to say, as they climed the stairs to the surface.

…

Back at Atlantis' harbor, Kozmotis was already being awaited. A lone woman stood at the dock, her dark blue robe with silver ornamentation indicating that she was of the guild. Their paths had already crossed on a few occasions, as it turned out to be Lady Melinoe, once Aemilia's tutor. The sorceress hadn't been around during the Dream Pirates' attack, having spent only two days a week at the mansion.

As soon as the trireme had anchored, Kozmotis approached her, and she bowed politely. "Lady Melinoe, how may I help you?"

"Actually, High General, I was hoping to help you." She spoke, her voice carrying firmness and authority, as would be expected from a senior member of the guild. "I'd like to join you in the coming campaign against the Dream Pirates. If this will truly mark the end of the war, I do not wish to be left out."

Kozmotis already had several sages to join him, and enough to enact his plan. "Please don't mind me asking, Milady, but there is something personal about your request, isn't there?"

She nodded her expression still stern and determined. "You know I was your daughter's tutor in the past, and she was a wonderful girl with much potential." She made a small pause, and sadness showed in her eyes. "I cannot help but wonder how things would have been different, if I had been there, Lord Pitchiner. That is why I wish to come with you."

Now it was Kozmotis' turn to pause, involuntarily taking a deep breath as he did; he had wondered the very same many times during the past days, nay, weeks now. He couldn't decline. "It would be an honor, and I would welcome you on my ship, Milady."

A slight smile showed on her face, and once more she bowed, this time with gratitude. "Thank you, High General; you will not be disappointed."

* * *

All of Atlantis had gathered that day to see the fleet off. No cheering, only families saying goodbye to their loved ones, priest giving their blessing to those who requested it. As Kozmotis Pitchiner walked to the dock where his ship was anchored, he spotted Lykos at the edge of the crowd. After a few steps he saw that his friend was talking with his parents, Lord and Lady Sagittarius, and briefly Kozmotis stopped in his tracks. He waited until they had said their farewells, and Lykos continued on to his ship. Barely a word had passed between Pitch and his stepparents, and he felt uncomfortable approaching them, but he couldn't ignore them, nor did he want to any longer. Still, he felt ill at ease as he got walking again, and they saw him. As stood there in front of them, his throat was dry, and Kozmotis bowed deeply.

Amina's father had an arm laid around his wife, the grief not having yet left their faces yet, and Lord Sagittarius nodded appreciatively at his stepson's gesture, however he remained silent. Both were dressed in the color of their house, a deep, forest green, but their attire was simple, no embellishment and no jewelry, as it was common for nobles, to display that they were still in mourning. "I know nothing I could do, will ever rectify what I've allowed to let happen." Kozmotis began, his voice low, so only his stepparents could hear him. "I do not expect you forgive me, and I will not ask for your forgiveness. I'm grateful for all you have done for me, for raising me, and treating me as if I was your own son. I cannot repay you, only do all I can to end this war, and bring your true son back to you." Neither Lord nor Lady Sagittarius said anything, and so he bowed anew after saying. "Milord, Milady; divines bless you."

Not daring to look into their eyes again, Kozmotis continued on. He'd almost walked passed them, when his stepmother took his arm, and surprised he looked back over his shoulder to meet her eyes, so full of sorrow and pain. "Avenge our daughters, son."

Rendered somewhat speechless, he could only nod, with every intention to fulfill her wish.

"And then return to us."

…

Tsar Badr watched she ships depart from a balcony, his personal bodyguard Zopyros standing next to him. "Do you think it was right to let Lord Pitchiner go?" The young sage asked with a low voice.

Zopyros didn't answer right away, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he thought about the question. "I don't think there was a right or wrong decision." He began carefully, and though he was older than Tsar, his voice sounded just as young, almost like that of a boy, yet it was clear and earnest. "I do not know the High General well enough to judge him accurately, but denying him this fight would have likely haunted him for the rest of his life. I believe he must be given the chance to find…closure, to bring this war to an end himself."

"We're Atlantians; we pride ourselves to be above such petty things like revenge."

"With all due respect, Milord, but as honorable as that would be, I do not think we have already come that far. We are still merely human; even when our laws are sophisticated, our emotions remain comparatively...simple." The silver clad guard said carefully.

"Perhaps one day we can live up to our ideals, Zopyros. At least it would hurt if we were to try more often." Tsar noted, breathing in heavily. "I'm aware I cannot know what it feels like to endure what Lord Pitchiner is going through, I won't even pretend, but still…somehow I wish he wouldn't have gone."

To this Zopyros said nothing and together they watched in silence how the fleet was slowly getting smaller, until its ships disappeared behind the horizon, while the crowd below had already long dispersed.

* * *

When she awoke, every single muscle in her body felt sore, but she was lying on something softer than the catamaran, and the scent of seawater was no longer in her nose, or the sound of waves in her ears. Very slowly Emily opened her eyes, seeing that she was in a dimly lit room made entirely of wood, the bed was straw covered with furs. She was wearing a long robe, actually too long for her, but dry and clean. Someone had found her, and she breathed deeply with relief.

She rose from her bed and found that her legs wouldn't support her as well as they used to. Days on the sea, and who knew how many days asleep were likely to blame, and so keeping at least one hand at the wall at all times, she made her way to the nearby door. It was thankfully a small room.

Behind the door was a somewhat larger room, dominated by a fireplace in its center, which also seemed to be the kitchen area, next to it a small table with a few chairs and a wall dominated by filled scroll-shelves. No one seemed to be home right now, and so Emily sat down close to the fireplace. To her surprise she saw that the flame was hovering over the ground in a bright yellow. Just to be safe, she rubbed her eyes, but nothing changed, and she was sure she'd ended up in the home of a wizard.

Warming herslef up, Emily waited for almost an hour, before a man entered the house, dressed in simple beige robes, his short hair and beard snow-white and he was carrying a bag full of herbs at his side. As he saw Emily a kind smile spread over his face. "I see you are finally awake." He said friendly, and approached her. "How are you feeling?"

He spoke Atlantian to her delight; she knew a bit Greek and Egyptian but anything else would have posed a problem. "Fine, I suppose." She answered him timidly, her voice rougher than expected. Only now that he was but a few steps away, she saw that one of his brown eyes had gone completely grey and looked blind; it was slightly distressing.

Apparently he picked up on that. "Oh, where are my manner; my name is Typhan, once member of the sage's guild of Atlantis."

"Once?"

He smiled with a hint of regret in his expression. "I now live here on this island as a hermit, but yes, a long time ago I was a respectable wizard of the house Solar."

He was of the Constellations! Maybe her chances of getting home had just increased. "My name is Aemilia Ioanna Pitchiner."

"Pitchiner, Pitchiner." Typhan thought aloud, looking into space as he was trying to remember something. "Ah yes, a smaller noble as I recall, excellent horses though. Judging by your age, you should be the granddaughter of the Lord Pitchiner I knew. Tragic, how he lost his life in battle…" He nodded to himself. "Shortly before I left the island and his child was born. One of your parents I presume."

Emily swallowed hard, trying not to tear up. "My father."

"Another Lord Pitchiner; has he taken after his father, or did he stay on dry land like most of your house?"

Weakly she smiled. "Well, he is High General of the Seas, Lord of the Golden Fleet and Great Protector of Atlantis."

For a moment the old wizard stared at her somewhat baffled. "A Pitchiner instead of a Constellation? Remarkable…, are you alright?" Only now he saw the tears forming in her eyes.

"My parent, they…" Emily started sobbing. Throughout the next hour, Emily told him everything about the war against the Dream Pirates, how her father became High General and faced the shadows over the years, and the worst part, how she watched her mother die when the shadows invaded her home. She knew her mother was dead, but her father. "I don't know about him." She admitted, her tears having finally dried somewhat. "Last time I saw him was, when we said our goodbyes, and he went to stop the very Pirates, which came to our home a day later. I don't know if he simply missed them or if they…if they killed him."

The wizard Typhan was now sitting next to her, not quite sure how to handle this. He'd lived on this island for thirty years, alone, and he hadn't talked to anyone much less a child ever since. Now he had a grief-stricken little girl in his home. "The currents of this realm are tricky, as you've sadly learned the hard way. The current leading to Euthalia, and from it back to Atlantis do not run next to each other, not even parallel. It is possible that they sailed past each other without noticing. Your father could very well be still alive."

A flicker of hope danced in her reddened eyes. "You think?"

He smiled encouragingly. "The man you described seems to be very hard to kill. Perhaps he's even looking for you as we speak."

"He's promised he would always look after me." Emily said, determination having returned to her voice. "He'd search for me, I'm sure, but can't I just return to Atlantis. I know it's not a little thing to asked, but you could bring me back."

"That won't be possible." He admitted regretfully.

It made her desperate. "I'm sure he'd reward you, please get me home, I beg you."

He lifted a hand to stop her, seeing her distress and began to explain. "Lady Aemilia, the currents around us only lead to this island not away from it. Without a few oarsmen and a decent ship you can't leave. I could turn you into an animal, but even if you were to make it to Atlantis, no one could turn you back because to my knowledge I'm the only wizard practising metamorphoses."

Emily had heard of this art, but also knew it was forbidden; it was deemed too dangerous. Nervously she licked over her still dry lips, trying to come up with a solution. "Couldn't you turn us both; you turn me back on Atlantis, and return here?" Emily carefully suggested.

"I'd like to I really would, but last time I turned myself I forgot I was human." He told her, suddenly looking a bit ashamed. "Only after three years did I remember that I wasn't a hawk at all and turned back. What if I forget completely next time, what if we both forget? No, it's too much of a risk. Besides I'm old; who knows if I could make such a distant. I'm afraid all you can do is to wait for your father to get here."

His words seemed to drain her off all hope, and her lower lip trembled. "Why did you have to pick this island?" She complained, hiding her face behind her hands, suppressing new tears. "There are hundreds in this realm, and you pick the one where there is no escape from."

Heavily Typhan sighed. "That was by design, my dear. The guild cast me out because of my experiments with metamorphoses, and I chose an island every sailor avoids. I'm sorry, but this circumstance I could not foresee."

For a while there was silence between them, and then Emily had another idea. "Just recently the guild has started to train me." Excitement grew in her voice. "What if you continued my training, and teach how to morph myself into an animal. That way I can travel on my own, and turn myself back."

For a while he regarded her, as if he was evaluating. "It would take years, and there are risks you forget who you are." The wizard eventually said.

He was starting to annoy her; couldn't he at least pretend for her sake that there was something she could do. "Fine, then that is going to be my backup plan, in case father doesn't find me here, or is…"Emily broke off, unwilling to finish the sentence. "Please, I have to at least try it."

Typhan sighed, but gave in. "Alright, young Lady Pitchiner, I will train you, as soon as you have regained your strength. But remember that is a long process, and you can never display your skills once you're back on Atlantis."

"I promise." This time there were tears of joy in her eyes. "Thank you, thank you Lord Solar."

"Call me Typhan. I haven't been a Lord in many years." He said glad to see her happy. "If you don't mind I will make us something to eat; all I could do so far was giving you water. Can't do magic as skinny and weak as you are right now."

"How long was I out?" Emily felt like she'd been out for weeks, and her stomach had long ago started to protest against the sudden absence of food by cramping uncomfortably.

"Two days, and if my memories still serve me, you must have been at least four days out on sea, even with a strong current carrying you."

"Are there any inhabited island near us?" The more, the more likely it was that her father could come to this particular island.

For a moment Typhan thought about this. "Well, with a ship Atlantis is about three days away and a little island with a hamlet two days going north-east." Emily said nothing, but bit her lower lips; the chances of her father finding her here seemed to be almost depressingly small.

* * *

The island was unimposing, merely the peak of a mountain that reached over the waterline, dark grey, with an ominous aura surrounding it. There was a single crack in the rock, enough for someone to enter the mountain though. Pure darkness seemed to crawl out of it. Already the Atlantians had given this place a name during their journey; Erebus, the deepest, utter darkness. About a dozen triremes surrounded the island, likely more than necessary but Lord Pitch wasn't taking any chances.

It was noon, but despite it being a clear day, the sun didn't bring any warmth, the wind blowing cold. Onboard Kozmotis' ship the general was holding a final meeting with the captains accompanying him, Lykos, Scorpio and Virgio, as well as five of the sages, among them Solon and Melinoe.

"Maybe someone else should go, General." Scorpio suggested his expression grim and stern, clearly not pleased with Kosmotis' plan. "Yours is the most dangerous part."

"And the most crucial, which is why I will go." Besides he truly felt like it was his duty; to have every shadow slain or locked up for all eternity…that was what he'd promised. "I trust you in keeping the Dream Pirates occupied." Kozmotis looked over to the sages. "We'll try to enact our plan as soon as we find a suitable position. Hopefully it won't take too long, and we can avoid unnecessary bloodshed."

Virgio frowned, obviously sharing Scorpio's point of view. "And the spell can't be cast up here?"

"We could, but it's risky." Solon weighed in. "The spell has a limited radius, and up here it might not affect every shadow within that mountain. If we don't get them all, some might escape; find refuge elsewhere out of our reach." His words were met by a brief silence.

Kozmotis ended it. "They'll be coming soon. Captains return to your ships, and be on your guard; divines be with you." The three men bowed and left, Lykos looking back one more time, before nodding and following the others. Kozmotis turned to his first officer. "You still wish to join us."

Libra seemed somewhat anxious but determined. "Yes, sir."

"If you insist. Honored sages." He continued, addressing the guild members. "It is about time we depart."

…

Only five minutes later the small group stood waiting at the entrance of the mountain. The sages had cast a spell to avoid detection, as long as they didn't move, to make sure the Dream Pirates would attack the ships, not them. Indeed after a short time, something streamed out of the crack, something like black fog. It kept coming for quite a while, and then it was gone, without a trace. Pitchiner felt tense waiting for what he knew would follow. Mere seconds later shouts and outcries could be heard from the ships, the sound of crossing blades joining in. "Let's not waste any more time."

Kozmotis and Solon went in first, squeezing themselves through the crack, the wizard's staff illuminating the tunnel ahead, Libra, Melinoe along with the other sages right behind them. The path ahead was slim and they needed to walk in single file, the walls lined with sharp stones. Kozmotis felt one cut along his cheeks. He licked away the small stream of blood when it reached his lips. The tunnel snaked its way through the rock, going steadily down, deeper and deeper, and even the darkness appeared to grow thicker and thicker, despite the light from the staffs. Strangely enough unlike in most caves, it didn't get warmer, the air not stuffy, but colder and damper the further they got. It was…unsettling.

After about a quarter of an hour they reached a cavern, the dimensions so enormous that the little light at their disposal could not illuminate the Dream Pirates den in its entirety. The path got slightly broader, spanning over the chasm in front of them like a natural bridge.

Solon looked around; when he spoke his voice was a little nervous and low. "This place will suffice." He concluded. "We need five spots, if possible in equal distance to each other."

"There is a small path to a ledge." Lady Melinoe replied, pointing to their left. "And with a little climbing, one can get up there to another to our right."

Solon nodded. "If one of us stays here, we only need to find two more, but they would need to be located on the other side of the bridge, or close to it."

"I'll take Dareios and get over there."

"Be careful." Kozmotis told the sorceress, his eyes searching the darkness for any movement. "Most of them will be up on the surface by now, but who knows how many stayed here."

"Sir, I'd like to join them, just in case."

The general regarded the officer thoughtfully. "Alright, but stay close to the sages."

Libra nodded, and the three got on their way, slowly crossing the bridge. Only now they saw that it was going in somewhat of an arch, the light of the two staffs soon dim spots in the darkness. Solon and Kozmotis remained at the entry of the cavern, while the other two sages carefully made their way to the positions Lady Melinoe had suggested.

"Do you believe this will work?" Kozmotis asked the wizard quietly, who seemed surprised by the question.

"It has worked with fewer shadows and now that we're five… there is no going back now anyway."

"I know." Pitchiner replied. "I just hope it was the right decision."

…

Meanwhile Libra, Melinoe and Dareios were still on their way. Large stalagmites grew from the ceiling and ledges along the wall, which sometimes was almost close enough to touch, or too far away to make out. The bridge was broad enough for two people to go side by side, and slick from the constantly dripping water. It also went on longer than expected.

"We have to find suitable positions soon." Melinoe reminded them. "If we go too far the spell won't work."

Dareios looked around, finding something to their right. "I could jump to that ledge over there."

The sorceress searched the other half of the cavern. "I think I've found another." She said after a short while of staring into the darkness, before turning to Libra. "Officer, I advise you activate your gauntlet now; as soon as we're gone, our illumination spell won't guard you any longer."

"I understand."

Dareios leaped over the chasm, and indeed managed to land on the ledge, both feet and a hand on the stone. One foot slipped on the wet ground, but he stayed on top. As Melinoe was preparing herself to get to her position, Libra spoke the first words of the incantation. The aura of the sorceress light had hardly left him, the last two words were already on his lips. Suddenly something grabbed him by the ankles. Libra was thrown to the ground, face hitting the stone, and he tasted blood as he instinctively clawed at the ground, when whatever had grabbed him pulled him backwards. Looking over his shoulders he saw a shadow, a true demon, the face not round and mostly featureless, but elongated, like a dog's head without skin, only black muscle, sharp eyes and long fangs like meat hooks.

"Milady!" He shouted, panic gripping his heart, a cold feeling rising from where the shadow held him throughout his entire body.

Melinoe turned around, pointing her staff at the Fearling. Suddenly there was another, similar looking to the first, its claws jamming themselves into Libra's legs, through the armor. He cried out in pain, blood running over his limbs, not noticing the spell that hit one Fearling like a white lightning. The other seemed to notice the danger it was in and pulled harder. Despite the pain he was already in, Libra wouldn't let go of the rock, his finger hurting now just as much as the wounded legs at which the Fearling was still tearing. If he tried to reach for his sword now, he would be dragged down for sure. Lira risked a short glance over to Melinoe, who fought off three more Fearlings, throwing one by one back down into the darkness.

Suddenly Libra lost his hold. No; not like this. For a second everything seemed to slow down as he was dragged backwards, his hands trying to find something to hold on to, but only leaving a trace of blood upon the stone. He reached for the edge, his bloody fingertips slipping off. In his fright, he even forgot to scream. Libra heard the merciless chuckle of a Fearling, claws still deep in the muscles of his legs, as the light of Melinoe's staff grew dimmer. For a moment he could have sworn to have seen her face looking after him from the bridge, as more claws grabbed him, and he fell further into the Erebus.

…

Melinoe saw the young officer losing hold, as she kicked the last Fearling back into the abyss, his eyes widened in terror. She ran to him, letting herself fall onto her knees, hand reaching out for one of his, but his fingers had already slipped off the edge. Leaning over it she watched him falling, seeing the dread plainly writing upon his face, and a dozen pairs of white, sharp eyes behind him in the darkness.

And then there was nothing. No eyes, no last frightful or defying scream, only darkness and nothing stirring in the shadows. Melinoe lifted her upper body to look over to Dareios, whose robe was torn, likely having been attacked as well. He was looking around, as well, searching for more Fearlings, but none came. _Focus_, she told herself, _you must be at your position when Lord Pitch lures them in_. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, the sorceress rose, and began to climb to the spot she'd scouted earlier.

…

"Did you hear something?" Both Solon and Kozmotis listened into the darkness. Just seconds ago there had been the faint echo of something like a scream.

"Yes." The general answered him. "I hope the others are alright."

"Time is running out, Lord Pitch. With every minute we stand here more soldiers are being slaughtered." Solon reminded him, his hand tightly gripping the staff, gaze fixed on the bridge ahead.

Kozmotis nodded. "I'm aware, but we only have one chance. One more minute." He decided. "Then I'll go."

The minute went by slowly, and silently they both counted the seconds. Then Kozmotis took the first steps, raising his left gauntlet closer to his mouth. "_Teine a-staigh, soilleir dìon._" As soon as the last word was spoken, the runes glowed and a white-blue flame ignited, running around it lower arm, flaring up, almost reaching as high as his shoulder, illuminating the surrounding area with a cool, ghostly light. It was fortunate that the fire was as cool as it looked, moving the cloth of his sleeve no more than a light wind would have. Scythe at the ready in his right hand, Kozmotis walked along the bridge, going ever so slightly up. As he neared to top, he could see two more dim lights, no doubt Melinoe and Dareios. He'd expected to see Libra as well, his gauntlet having been imbued with the same spell as his. Kozmotis felt his stomach twist, as he recalled the faint scream, and silently prayed his first officer was with one of the wizards.

From the pouch at his belt, he took out the obsidian stone the Archmages had prepared. Carefully he placed it just in front of him, going down on his knees. With his left hand on top of the stone he spoke the incantation. "_Sgàile coimhead, thig a-nall_." And all hell broke loose.

…

Captain Scorpio dodged a wide swing of a Fearling, and brought his own axe around, slicing clean through the arm, and then the leg. They needed to keep the Dream Pirates alive, so the trap could be sprung, and Scorpio hated that. Not that the Atlantian soldiers were not used to keeping as many enemies alive as they could, but today it was crucial and it would cost lives. Aside from that the Dream Pirates had changed. No more humanoid shapes, or round featureless faces; this was their territory, and they appeared as nightmarish creatures, twisted in appearance, most heads reminiscent of wolves and dragons, long, angular with snouts full of fangs. Tendrils and thorns grew from their bodies, some feet had turned to hooves or talons, and others had tails. All and all they looked more demon-like than ever.

The captain continued to cut his way through limbs, when he caught something black in the corner of his eye. He cringed when a dark spear stabbed him in the upper thigh. Guided by instinct, his axe slashed through the shadow's hands, and the spear faded, leaving a gushing wound. With every pump of his heart, more blood was being pushed out of the injury. Scorpio tore off a piece of his red cloak, and pressed it upon his thigh to suppress the bleeding. The damn thing had hit his artery or something. Slowly he sunk to his knees, feeling light-headed, keeping himself upright with his weapon. He realized that soon enough a Dream Pirate would take advantage of this situation and finish him off.

"Captain!"

Scorpio looked up to see a Fearling come for him, sword at the ready, when suddenly a man, wearing an officer's blue cloak stepped in its way. The officer cut the arms off and a leg for good measure, before he turned to his captain. It was Alexis Capricorn; about a year ago Scorpio had offered to take him under his command, to punch some sense and discipline into his head. Finally that brat showed some backbone.

"Captain Scorpio, your wound…" Capricorn began.

"Get a sage." Scorpio gasped, blood now running from between his fingers.

"Yes, sir."

The young man had just turned around, when something odd happened. The Dream Pirates lost their shapes, surging up, merging into something like a black cloud above the ships, everyone's eyes fixed at them, watching anxiously. The cloud was in turmoil, moving like a maelstrom over their heads. Suddenly it surged back to the mountain, disappearing back into the darkness from which the shadows had come. Their departure was followed by utter silence. It seemed the High General and the sages had finally prepared the trap. Scorpio broke the quietness, his voice raspy. "Capricorn, stop staring and get that healer!"

…

Deep within the Erebus a few hundred Dream Pirates were resting. They knew of the battle above the surface that the Atlantians had been foolish enough to come here, and challenge them. How laughable. These Fearlings however were still weakened, their physical shapes having been killed only recently, and now reconstituted in the total darkness of the mountain. Never had the sunlight reached the stones here, and never would, the only sound was the dripping water, and the faint whispers of shadows.

Then suddenly something like invisible hooks dug into their essence. They snarled, enraged; who would dare to attack them here? The hooks dragged at them, and the stronger they fought, the stronger they seemed to pull. Fine; if someone wanted to meet them so eagerly, let him have his wish.

…

The first thing he heard was like wind, growing into a howling storm. Out of the darkness the so familiar black fog rose, soon surrounding him; it was like being in the eye of a hurricane, and hoarse whispers, angry hisses and animalistic snarls sounded from it. Hundreds of piercing white eyes appeared in the swirling storm, tendrils of shadows moving closer to him from all sides, retreating when they came too close to the flames, but kept encircling him carefully.

Kozmotis watched them, not understanding what the Dream Pirates were saying, but hearing their displeasure, their rage. The sages would need some minutes to conduct their spell; in the meantime Pitchiner would need to stay alive.

Something merged from the storm, though Kozmotis could only see it once it stepped into the blue light of his gauntlet's flame. First he saw three pairs of white eyes, arrayed above each other, cleaved hooves, each as broad as the bridge. Its face was somewhat like the black skull of a ram, with four long horns, and long fangs; especially the canines were impressive, each about as long as Kozmotis was tall. The rest of the body was mostly obscure, but defiantly hulking, filling the space between the bridge and the ceiling.

"_You have come to die, General._" The voices came from all around him, though the monster had opened its snout as if to speak.

"I have come to do what I should have done long ago." Kozmotis snarled back, suppressing his rage, his hatred. No mistake now or all would have been for nought.

The following laughter managed to send a shiver down his spine. "_Had we known you'd doom most of your fleet for your revenge, mortal, we would have paid your home a visit a long time ago._" Nostrils flaring, Kozmotis took a step towards the shadow; he was this close to activating his scythe and damn the consequences, the flame responding, flaring up. "_Yes_." They hissed from all sides, their voices now almost drilling into his head. "_Strike at us, use the spell your sages gave you. Slaughtering a few has all but killed you; come and see how you fare against more than a thousand._"

"You think me that foolish? I will not waste my life in such a futile effort. If you want me dead, you'll have to come to me."

"_That can be arranged._" And with that the monstrous shadow moved again, raising its left arm as far as it could, before bringing it down with all strength. Kozmotis dodged to the side, a foot slipping over the bridge's edge, as an enormous black axe of oily shadows cut through the stone, slimming the natural construction by half. Thankfully the obsidian stone was still intact and wasn't falling with tones of rocks into the abyss, though it was shaking from the impact. The fierce white eyes ignored it, and fixed on the lone human, as it stepped forth with a hoof, making the ground shake anew. "_It will be over faster if you hold still._"

"I'm not going to make it easy, shadows." Kozmotis growled back.

"_Pity._" Once more the weapon was lifted.

Just when it came for him, Kozmotis leaped forward, bringing himself behind the now lowered hand, and he brought his scythe around, cutting deep into the wrist. The sheer mass of shadows however proved durable, and the limb wasn't removed, however it made the monster snarl with pain. It gave Lord Pitch great satisfaction to hear it, but he was given no time to enjoy it, or to take another swing, because a Fearling suddenly came out of nowhere. Quickly he blocked its attack with the scythe's shaft, and the Fearling hissed, being too close to the cold blue flames now. As fast as it had come, it disappeared again in the darkness and the dark storm surrounding them. However this didn't mean Kozmotis could take a break, as one of the hooves was about to trample him. He rolled, yet the hoof caught his cape, dragging him back. Holding the scythe with one hand, Kozmotis drew his sword, and cut through the cloth, freeing himself. Even before he was back on his feet again, he'd put the blade away again. The demonic shadow turned around.

"_Your resistance is for nought._" The voices hissed. "_You should have brought more wizards. Yes, we can hear those who came with you whisper, but they will not suffice._"

"We brought you all here, didn't we?" He spoke loud and defiantly.

There was something like a snort of derision. "_With a spell made by someone far more powerful, yes. But killing us, confining us, is something entirely different._"

"That, I will not argue." Despite this, Kozmotis smiled, grim but triumphant. The monster hadn't noticed that it stood above the obsidian stone, and with that the center to which all Dream Pirates were striving towards, was exactly where it needed to be. "This ends here and now."

Before the shadows could move, the runes upon the black stone started glowing bright, a beam of pure, blinding white light reaching up, cutting through the monster. Kozmotis could hear it wailing in agony, as he himself covered his eyes with one arm. He narrowed them as far as he could, without actually closing them, seeing several horizontal beams of light in the darkness of the cavern, enclosing the black maelstrom, connecting the sages with one another. Once more the Dream Pirates' essence was dragged towards a single point, this time into a far more condensed shape. Once he could see again, Kozmotis saw a giant black orb hovering above the bridge, as if carried by the central beam of light from the stone, its surface constantly shifting. Now the other beams came together, as if drawn to the orb, and once all touched upon it, they detached from their sources, and place themselves around the condensed darkness like a cage of light. Only now did Kozmotis allow himself to sink to his knees, and breathed out heavily, pearls of sweat running over his face. It was done, it was actually done.

Every single Dream Pirate captured in this cage, ready to be brought to Umbra, to be shut away for eternity. After a decade this war was finally over…and yet he felt little alleviation or elation. He simply felt tired and drained, and without him realizing, his fingers took hold of the locket now lying upon his chest. For what felt like a very long time, Kozmotis sat there and waited for the others, until from out of the darkness the sages arrived. All of them looked exhausted, depending greatly on their staffs for support as they walked, their faces looking like they'd aged by several years. About half of Lady Melinoe's raven hair had turned silver as well.

Solon was the first to speak, once they all had gathered around the shadow orb. "We've done it." A hint of disbelieve lingered in his voice, his breathing heavily, eyes fixed on the shifting blackness.

"Is it really over?" Dareios asked, sitting down himself as he caught his own breath.

"No." The sorceress was the only one whose voice didn't betray her exhaustion. "Not until we've brought them to Umbra, and they are behind sealed doors."

Silently the others nodded in agreement. Kozmotis turned around to take a better look at everyone, when suddenly a cold feeling ran down his back, and his guts felt like they were being twisted. "Where is Libra?"

* * *

Emily ran to the beach, as fast as her legs would carry her, down the hill, almost tripping over her own feet. The trireme was anchoring just off shore, a small ship's boat having just landed on the island.

And there he was, standing at the shore, looking at her, disbelieving his own fortune at having finally found her. He sank to his knees, not caring that he was still standing in the water, catching her, pressing her closely against him, as she immediately threw her arms around him. Together they sat there on the beach, him cowering on the wet sand, her sitting on his legs, waves washing around them. Together the shed tears, exuberantly happy and grateful to be united again, his hand combing through her hair. Emily felt like she never wanted to let go again. He had come for her, he had finally found her.

"Emily." She could her him whisper breathlessly.

"Father." She managed to reply between sobs. "You came for me."

"I told you I would." There was nothing else on this world that she wanted more.

…

Emily opened her eyes again, and her hands clenched the fur on which she lay, until the straw stung her palms painfully. A single tear ran from her eyes. So many days had passed, and turned into weeks. Every night her dreams showed her parents, and she wasn't sure if it was worse to see her mother die all over again, or see her father find her, only to wake up and realize that it may never be more than a dream; it was taunting, it was almost torturous.

Like every morning before Typhan was awake, she went to the beach to wander along the coastline, searching the horizon for any sign of a ship. The seagulls were screaming above her head, as she wrapped her cloak tightly around her. This early in the morning the air was still cool and autumn was coming. Emily followed the path from the hut in the forest down to the coast, and kept walking for the next two hours. Like every other morning before, no ship showed itself, and frustrated Emily sat down on a convenient and dry rock, staring out at the sea. By now the sky had turned from pale orange to blue and soon she would have to return to the hut. Emily pulled up her legs, and wrapped her arms around them, as the first waves washed against the rock. The tide was coming in. About ten minutes later, she went back to Typhan's house.

…

After breakfast she returned to the shore, this time with the wizard. She got into the water, which was still very cold, trousers turned up. Sternly she spoke the words she'd been taught by Typhan. "_Uisge, cluinn mo gairm, faigh riaghladh_." Taking a few deep breaths she lifted her arms in front of her until they were parallel to the water surface. Slowly she moved her arms to the right, the water around her following her movements obediently, and she lifted her arms further, raising a wave until it reached up to her hips. One hand moved in a semi-circle, so palm faced palm, as if she was holding something round in her hands, the wave turning into an orb hovering above the water. Keeping her hands in position, Emily began to move her arms, guiding the water in front of her.

"The orb is losing water." The wizard's voice came from behind her. "Keep your mind focused; you must feel the water under your control, as if it was part of your body." He told her this almost every day, and by now it was nothing but annoying. "You cannot master metamorphoses if you can't even control inanimate objects. A transforming spell will change every bone, every organ, every single blood vessel in your body; if you lose control in such a critical moment, if your mind is too deviated from your actions, it will kill you."

Emily kept herself from giving him a snippy remark. When she'd come to him just a few weeks ago, Emily had only known a single spell. Of course she wanted to leave this island as soon as possible, master metamorphoses, but she was certainly no miracle worker, and this was exhausting. Every day he trained her, and often she would fall into bed just after dinner, asleep before she hit the pillow.

* * *

Weeks had passed since the battle of Erebus, and the Atlantian Council had gathered once more in their circular hall beneath the painted firmament. All fourteen nobles, along with the four Archmages and –priests were gathered, and King Thais Aquarius was addressing the council with something that greatly bothered him. "The High General Pitchiner has requested to guard the prison on his own."

First there was silence, most Lords surprised or confused by this news, looking at each other or the King questioningly. "It's madness; the guards can barely take more than a month as it is." Lord Solar said, breaking the silence.

The Lord of house Taurus seemed to disagree. "Lord Pitch has proven time and time again that he can prevail against the shadows. Even in the Erebus they could not defeat him, and the tragic loss of his family has provided him with motivation. I think we can safely assume that no shadow will ever escape as long as he keeps watch over Umbra."

"I don't think anyone here doubts his skill or his determination, but should we approve it?" Tsar Lunar had taken the word; Lord Pitchiner had come to both Kings with his request, and both had tried to convince him to reconsider, without success. "He still seeks justice for his family, and I fear with confining him with those shadows, we enable his revenge. For his own sake it might be for the better if we decline and keep the guard rotating as it is now."

"Is the safety of our realm, maybe the entire world not more important? We must make sure no Dream Pirate will ever roam our world again, and threaten humanity. I don't think we can find someone more suitable than our High General."

"And you Lord Aries are not saying this because you want one of your house to be the new Lord of the Golden Fleet?" Lunar suggested, eyes narrowed.

"I will not reply to such a ridiculous accusation." His Lordship growled.

Once more Aquarius spoke, standing up to enforce his words. "Milords please; the matter of discussion is whether we allow our valued General to become the permanent guard of Umbra, or if we keep him in charge of our Fleet."

"I don't think we should let him lead our armies any longer; ever since the attack on his home he has isolated himself, worse so after the Erebus. Whether we send him away or not, he's certainly no longer fit for duty." Lord Gemini weight in.

"If that's the case he must remain here; otherwise he'll never recover."

Lord Leo scoffed. "The soft thinking of the house Virgio. Having him here doing nothing is hardly going to be helpful. He's a warrior, he is someone who must act to find his peace. Not be kept caged in and shepherded like a child."

A frown showed on Lord Libra's face. "And being confined to a prison is preferable how?"

"Every day confining the Dream Pirates away from us might lower is sense of guild. He will succeed in something he thinks he's failed in before; keeping the shadows from reaching us, reaching Atlantis, killing the innocent. Besides if you worry so much, there are supply ships going to Umbra every month. It will not be difficult to have them check on his condition, and respond should he worsen or any unforeseen complications arise."

"It would seem you have dedicated much thought into this, Lord Leo." Lord Virgio said, keeping his anger about the earlier comment in check.

A proud smile played on Leo's lips. "Mine is a Constellation of warriors; we're not unfamiliar with circumstances like the one our High General finds himself in."

"Have you lost your family?" Lord Sagittarius' voice was low, but it caught everyone's attention nonetheless. His gaze was lowered on the semi-circular table they all sat at.

"No; we have been fortunate in that regard."

Amina's father looked up, meeting Leo's eyes, who suddenly felt uncomfortable. "Then do not speak as if you understood."

"Do you believe he should be allowed to go?" Lunar asked rather carefully.

"Ultimately, I will leave this decision to him. My family would have welcomed him, as we've always done, but he declined." Sagittarius explained. "His mind his made up, and we cannot help him, unless he changes it."

No one spoke for a while. Lunar searched, waiting for someone to take the word, but all seemed in deep thought. Even Ombric Shalazar was unusually quiet. Tsar Lunar knew the Archmage had already spoken with Lord Pitchiner, and had not been able to make him reconsider his request either. It had been a rather short, but heated discussion, with Ombric trying to tell his friend to let go, start anew. Aghast, Lord Pitchiner had then left the guild without another word. In retrospect, Ombric admitted to regret his poor choice of words.

After a few minutes had passed, and when still nobody spoke, Thais Aquarius rose anew, looking over his fellow nobles. "I say we listen to Lord Leo's suggestion, and for now allow Lord Pitchiner to guard the prison. He'll be checked on monthly by the guild's sages onboard the supply ships, and should he be compromised, or seem unfit to continue his duty, we shall reinstate the previous guard rotation. I'd ask all in favor to raise their hands."

Twelve hands went up.

* * *

Slowly the sun was rising in the east, throwing the first light upon the dismal island of Umbra. The few crippled trees and patches of grass bent gently in the wind, as Kozmotis Pitchiner, former High General of the Seas, stood at the plateau, watching the supply ship that had brought him here leave. Already the ship was difficult to make out, but he was in no hurry to enter the prison, his new home. He would spend the rest of his life here making sure no shadow would escape and haunt mankind again. Automatically his hand reached for the golden locket around his neck, and he took a deep breath; he had not been able to keep them safe, and maybe he had volunteered to make amends for his greatest failure. He only knew that going to Erebus to seek his revenge had done little if nothing to ease the guild he felt.

Kozmotis released the locket again and turned around, when the ship was but a point on the horizon, walking towards the tomb-like prison in the mountain, the grey stone dead and unwelcoming. He didn't care and walked in, his eyes first directed to the heavy door straight ahead on the far side of the room, with the dimly glowing pentagram upon it. Never again would this door be opened, and it was a shame they couldn't seal it completely, but every change of the prison at this point was far too dangerous. Combined the shadows were terrifyingly powerful, and even the smallest weak point would allow them to break out, and so the door would remain.

Tired he sat down on one of the chairs at the fireplace, turning a log with an iron poker to get it burning again. The sad truth was that he had nothing to return to. Certainly as the High General he could have remained on the seas for the rest of his days, but when any family reminded you of your own, when every look you received was full of pity, and people whispered behind your back things they did not dare discuss in your presence. No, his place was now here, keeping a promise; to have every shadow slain or locked up for all eternity.

* * *

Chrysos closed the temple doors behind him, the sun rising to his right between the mountains. One last time he stopped a few stairs down, looking back at the temple he'd called home for his entire life. The young priest doubted he would ever see it again.

Only a few days ago Eusebios had passed away, thanks to Chrysos' treatment peacefully in his sleep, instead in pain, wide awake. Heavy hearted, despite having always wished to go visit someplace else, he descended the stairway to the hamlet, with a simple leather bag with all his possessions, and a cloak over his shoulders. He could feel a warm tear running down his cheek. Nothing truly kept him here any longer, and he knew out there more people needed his help. Who knew, perhaps he could even find the cause for all this, the source of the shadows, and in his mind he prayed to the Oneiroi for their blessing and to Hermes to protect him on his journey.

At the only street leading from the hamlet, Chrysos found who he was looking for. Just a week earlier, before Eusebios had crossed to the other side, merchants, travelling with their entire families, had stopped here on their way through, one of the children having been plagued by the shadows. Now Chrysos hoped they would take him with them, at least for a while.

The one in charge was middle-aged man, wearing a brown chiton and cloak, his black hair and beard kept short and a little curly. He seemed surprised to see Chrysos as he packed the last things together for departure. "Young priest, what do we own the honor of your visit?" His voice turned seldom. "We have heard of your mentor and included him in our prayers." Gratefully the young man bowed, before the merchant continued. "Have you come to bless our trip?"

Chrysos shook his head and showed him the wax tablet he'd prepared. The other man read it, growing more surprised, and looked at him with a questioning glance. "You wish to travel with us?"

This time he nodded and added something on the tablet. _Your child was not the only one, plagued by demons. I must seek out those who require my help. I humbly request that I may travel with you for a while._

The merchant considered his request for a few moments, and then slowly nodded. "If you truly wish to join us, we'd be honored. It is the least we can do for what you've done for my daughter."

Chrysos bowed anew to convey his gratitude. Finally his journey would begin.

* * *

**Characters from the original books: **Kozmotis Pitchiner, Lady (Amina) Pitchiner, Emily Jane Pitchiner, Ombric Shalazar, Tsar & Tsarina Lunar, Tsar (Badr) Lunar/MiM, Sandman (Chrysos), Nightlight (Zopyros), Typhan, Dream Pirates/Fearlings/Nightmare Men

**Why purple for the wedding attire****? **The color had a cultural and religious significance: In ancient Rome the _Toga praetexta_, a white toga with a broad purple stripe on its border was worn, among others, by many priests and dignitaries. The _Toga picta _was solid purple, embroidered with gold, worn by generals during the ceremony known as the Roman triumph/tiumphus, celebrating and sanctifying their latest military success. Last, the three kinds of the _Toga trabea, _one purple only, for the gods; another purple with a little white, for kings; and a third, with scarlet stripes and a purple hem for augurs and Salii(priests of Mars). Even today some church dignitaries are wearing purple.

**Erebus: **In Greek mythology often conceived as a primordial deity, representing the personification of darkness. Also perceived as the place of darkness between earth and Hades; the latter made the name seem rather suitable for the mountain.

**Spells:**

_Teine a-staigh, soilleir dìon_: teine =fire, a-staigh=inside/within, soilleir=bright/shining, dìon=protection/refuge

_Sgàile coimhead, thig a-nall_: sgàile=shadow/ghost/shade, coimhead=appear/show up, thig=come/arrive, a-nall=here/hither

_Uisge, cluinn mo gairm, faigh riaghladh: _uisge=water, cluinn=listen to/hear, mo=my, gairm=call/shout, faigh=accept, riaghladh=control/guidance/rule/reign


	6. Life goes on

**Chapter VI**

Her naked feet ran through the soft sand, her light brown, almost golden eyes fixed on a spot in front of them. She whispered a few words, and where she was looking at, the sand began to move, shifting, building a defined shape. Hovering over the ground now, was a small ship, a catamaran, and guided by her thoughts and a hand, she let it cruise over the beach as if it was the ocean.

Emily came to the beach still, even after three years, though her eyes were no longer fixed on the horizon. Never had she seen a ship, only once maybe a silhouette in the distance, but Typhan had been right; sailors seemed to avoid this island, and so she remained stranded. Did her father still look for her? Had he given up? Or had he never started to begin with? All these questions, all this doubt haunted her mind day and night, and her frustration grew with every day and week she spent here.

The wizard had been kind, lending her his ear whenever she needed to get something off her mind, comforting her when she cried after a particular painful dream, and teaching her ever since she'd come to him, and so by now she could control most elements around her; water, air and fire obeyed her command with the correct spell, but right now Emily was struggling with earth. Sand was fine, its structure making it easy enough to guide and shape, but earth and rock were different. And her patience was running out. He'd told her they would start with transforming inanimate objects, once he deemed her ready, but divines knew when that day would finally come. Her sudden anger made the sand-catamaran crumble.

Emily felt so utterly forsaken.

…

From the forest Typhan watched his young student, deeply worried, yet watching might have been the wrong term. Three years ago, he'd been blind on one eye, but now both had turned milky grey, and the old man had completely lost his eyesight. Now he was required to rely on his other senses, as well on Aemilia, though conveniently being a wizard, he still had something of a sixth sense, sharpened by the loss of his sight. He could sense magic around him, which meant that among others he could sense her, especially when she used a spell.

Her frustration was obvious, but Typhan wouldn't rush things because of the mood wings of an adolescent girl. He was still her mentor, and he tried to be something of a father figure to her. The wizard was well aware that she was still waiting for her real father, though she was losing hope with each day. Sadly it made her isolate herself. Even after sunset the girl would wander the island, and their conversations grew shorter, more and more stark, as if she was baring herself from any strong emotional connection. Whether Aemilia realized it or not, it hurt the old man deeply, who had found himself enjoying the company initially, after so many years alone.

Typhan was still angry with the guild for casting him out, just for trying something new, no other wizard had dared before. Such ignorance; he was better off without them. Not to mention it would have been sad, had the girl wasted her impressive talents with the narrow minded teachings of the guild, and whether she appreciated or not, once, if she returned to Atlantis, Aemilia would have no peers, thanks to him. The thought gave Typhan a certain satisfaction.

He would teach her to control the elements around her, how to transform almost any object into almost anything she wanted. Typhan had started with this far too late in his life to have the proper strength to use all the spells he'd once created, and no crystals with stored energy were at his disposal, but Aemilia had the strength, and for now the proper motivation. She wanted so much to return to Atlantis, but the hermit knew it would still take years. Maybe by then she would have accepted her place here; it would do them both some good.

In any case, it was probably for the best if she never found out that he himself had change the currents around this island upon his arrival all those years ago. It had been intended to bring schools of fish to his new home, in order to supply him with food all year around. Unfortunately however, several ships had wrecked in the first two years, though they had provided him with everything he needed to build himself a proper home, until Atlantian sailors had learned to avoid this island. Nowadays he was too weak to reverse what he had once done. If nothing else the winds still obeyed his commands.

Typhan sighted. All his skills, all the power he once had…had he only learned the proper healing spell, he wouldn't be blind today. At least now he had someone at his side to support him, at least for a while. It would be difficult to let go, when the time came.

* * *

The mind struggled, but like all the times before, Chrysos got through. This time around, he found himself in a ruined town, devoid of life and sound. Lacerated curtains moved in the wind, which the young priest could not feel on his skin; then again neither the breeze nor his body here were real. The streets were paved with grey stone, grey as the sky above, covered with a thin layer of ash, which was thrown around in the wind every now and then, soon covering his feet. He heard crying from somewhere, and followed the sound over tons of debris. Not far there was a dead tree, its bark black and cracked, most of the branches and twigs burned off, and cowering at the trunk was a little girl.

Chrysos approached her, and got on his knees. He didn't get too close or even put a hand on her for comfort; startled people liked to lash out. "Are you alright?" He simply asked, with his unfamiliar sounding voice.

She only pulled her knees closer to herself, her sobbing unchanged.

Swiftly Chrysos jumped to his feet when he heard a familiar chuckle. Even after years it sent shivers down his spine. "Reveal yourself, shadow." He demanded, fists clenched in defiance.

A patch of ash rose close to the tree until it stood as a three meter high column of dark smoke, two white eyes appearing in the blackness. "_The little priest_." It hissed, followed by an animalistic snarl.

He frowned. "You know of me shadow?"

There was low growl, coming from everywhere and nowhere, like ominous thunder. "_Of course; you've been bothersome for quite some time now. You travel throughout the land, hunt us down, yes._"

"Your numbers appear to be thinning out." Chrysos noted a smirk on his lips. "You're the first shadow I've encountered in many weeks. One could almost come to the conclusion that something has happened to you."

The voice turned angry. "_Do not flatter yourself, mortal. You may have defeated a few of us, but our true enemy lies beyond the sea, not on the continent. No, not here, not you._" It changed its appearance, turning it into a humanoid shape, though it was still smoke where the legs should have been, but it had long threatening claws in place of fingers. Chrysos was surprised by how thin and weak it yet looked; it was almost see-through.

"What enemy do you speak of?"

The shadow was swaying now, as if it hadn't had the strength to keep itself straight. "_Atlantis; bothersome people, who've dared to fight us._" It was speaking itself into a rage, its eyes no longer on Chrysos, but staring into space. "_But one day our kind will be free once more, yes, free to take our revenge._" Atlantis. The priest had heard tales of that legendary kingdom, somewhere at the edge of the known world. They ruled the seas and their wizards controlled the very elements they said, even if some considered such powers as an affront to the gods. Whether those fantastic stories were true or not, it would seem they stood and prevailed against the shadows, which was a most comforting thought; the priest was not alone in his fight.

Chrysos was growing more curious. "Free from what?" It seemed to have forgotten that it was speaking to the priest; this seemed to be a unique and excellent opportunity to get information out of the shadow. If there was anything he'd learned about them, it was that they were not particular bright, certainly devious and cruel, but more instinct, easy to be fooled; or perhaps it was simply arrogance.

There was an angry outcry, and swiftly the shadow lowered itself, its featureless head inches from Chrysos' now. "_Prison; Atlantians built infernal prison to hold us. So many of us are now trapped, only a few remain free, isolated, hanging on to children's minds, their fear just enough to sustain us. Must free them soon, or we last will fade. We are collective, not individuals, yes, must free them soon_." Slowly, and still swaying, it returned to its previous position next to the tree. If Chrysos didn't know better, he'd said it was drunk or otherwise drugged. Was that the effect of…what had it called it, 'fading'? And a prison? Perhaps the wizards of Atlantis were as powerful as they'd been praised.

"How many of you are still free?"

"_So few now, so few. Doesn't know exactly, others so far away, connection long gone, fading, fading fast_." The voice was confused, the shadow still moving back and forth constantly, its substance now shivering. "_Need fear, need to feed._"

Suddenly it launched itself at the cowering girl, but Chrysos had reacted fast, stepping between it and the girl, and grabbed the shadow by the thin throat. "No, you will fade. I don't fear you, and no longer will this girl."

The white eyes widened in panic, it slashed out at him in fury, but the smoky claws went through the small priest without causing damage. Chrysos tightened his grip as he spoke. "You are nothing shadow, be gone now, forever." And with a last painful hiss, the shadow grew pale, and turned into golden mist, rising and dispersing in the air, gone without a trace. Chrysos breathed out relieved.

Almost immediately, the girl at the tree stirred, her cyring stopped instantly. She looked over knees and around, searching for the demon that had haunted her all this time. "Is it gone?" She asked the priest timidly, once she saw him.

He gave her his warmest smile and kneeled down to her eye-level, which wasn't very far. "Yes, child; you are safe now."

Slowly she nodded, and then smiled in return; she would fine now, his work was done. The girl got back onto her feet and Chrysos watched as she let a hand run over the blackened bark of the tree, some of it breaking off under her touch, to reveal new, live bark beneath it. It surprised him time and time again how fast a child's mind would sometimes recover. Before Chrysos left her, he saw the first tiny green leaves, emerging on the burned tree's growing branches, as the sky above was turning bright and blue.

* * *

Kozmotis closed the large chest, containing all the clothing he would need in the foreseeable future. On the bed he'd once shared with his wife, he had placed some other things that were of great value to him, items he wanted to take with him. While the locket was always hanging around his neck, there were plenty of other objects he could not part with. There was a book with stories, from which Amina and he had read to Aemilia, and of course the drawings his wife had made over the years. If only she had made one of herself, but in his mind Kozmotis could still picture her clearly; the way she looked, the sound of her soft voice, even the touch of her skin. Drawings or not, nothing could take a lifetime of memories from him, not those of her.

Someone knocked against the open door behind him, and Kozmotis turned around to see Ombric Shalazar standing in the doorway. "May I enter?" He asked carefully. They hadn't parted on good terms the last time, but nonetheless Pitchiner nodded. For so many years they'd been friends; it shouldn't end with an argument, and apparently Ombric thought much the same. "I'm here, because I do not wish that our last words were spoken in anger, my friend." The Archmage continued, taking the first, slow steps into the room. "Only the divines know if we're ever going to meet again, and I wanted to apologize…and to say my goodbyes."

"Thank you, Ombric…I shouldn't have stormed out, but I…" Pitchiner began to apologize but he found himself lost for words, his gaze lowering from the Archmage to the floor.

When he noticed that his friend wouldn't continue, Ombric spoke again. "What I said was harsh, certainly somewhat thoughtless, and perhaps you truly have to do this." He paused. "Today I came, hoping I could do something for you, make amends."

"No compensations are required." Kozmotis told him, looking up once more. "You've only voiced your thoughts, but you are right; I need to do this, and if you don't mind, I do not wish to discuss this matter further."

The Archmage nodded once. "Of course; I didn't come here to try and change your mind, and I know now that nothing I could say, can persuade you to stay." His gaze wandered to the bed. "I see you'll be taking her works with you as well?"

"Yes." Where was the wizard going with this?

Ombric smiled. "Then I think you will appreciate what I can do for you, my friend. With an enchantment, I can make them last forever, so they'll never be lost to you. Including the one in your locket" Kozmotis opened his mouth, but no word came out, so the wizard continued. "Once enchanted neither age, nor the elements will harm them; they will even outlive you."

"If you do this, I don't think I can thank you enough."

With a kind smile, Ombric put a supportive hand on his friend's shoulder. "Keep your wits about you, boy, and promise that every now and then you will consider returning here. Someone like you shouldn't be wasting his life, guarding a prison. I don't say don't go, only keep it mind that you still and always will have friends here."

…

Kozmotis smiled at this memory, as he went through the drawings. Had it already been three years? Sometimes is seemed longer, but on days like today, shorter. The Dream Pirates were quiet today, no angry hissing or pleas, and while his guard was never down, Kozmotis allowed himself to relax a little, sitting at the table close to the fireplace. He took his time as he went through the pages, some showing the landscape around the mansion, others the horses that had once roamed the meadows, though most were of Aemilia and himself. Laying aside a drawing of him, breaking in a horse, he took one of his daughter clashing blades with him in one of their training sessions. His fierce little warrior; in an unconscious gesture, his teeth nipped at his lower lip, and his thumb gently stroke the golden locket.

Eventually he came to the book, the one Ombric had been kind enough to enchant as well. He and Amina had told their daughter every fairytale written on its pages more than once, and he was sure he knew some of them by heart. Casually Kozmotis flipped through the pages, stopping every now and then when he came across the title of one his daughter had especially enjoyed. Aside from those, he'd also told her stories of his own exploits, at least when his wife hadn't been around. Amina hadn't thought them appropriate for a child, though they were hardly bloodier than the actual children stories. Still, when telling his own tales, Kozmotis had always left out some of the gruesome details, and added a lot of showmanship.

…

Aemilia sat on the edge of her bed, knees pulled up and her arms around them, her eyes wide and attentive as she listened intently to every of her father's words. He'd returned home a few days ago, and was now prancing barefoot through her room, as if he was fighting an invisible enemy, a wooden training-sword in his hand. He was wearing his usual black pants with a long-sleeved, white shirt, and with the buttons loosened, the cuffs of his sleeves opened up like funnels around his hands.

"He swiftly dodged the Khopesh of the Egyptian captain." Kozmotis sidestepped, and made an ellipse with his bade, as if he was working around another. "With a quick move disarmed him." The sword went swiftly and forcefully to the left. "And forced him to back up against his own ship's railing, scimitar against the captain's throat." With a smile he gently placed the wooden blade against his daughter's shoulder, close to her neck. "The officer then spoke to the captain. 'Tell your men to surrender, or they'll face death and defeat.'" He held in as his gaze fell upon the window behind the bed, where he saw the reflection of Amina, standing in the doorway, arms folded in front of her chest. Quickly Kozmotis lowered the wooden sword, hiding it behind his back as he turned 90°. "And then the captain had his men lay down their weapons. The Atlantians reached a diplomatic solution with the Egyptians, with the officer taking part in the negotiations, helping to avoid a long and dreadful war."

Amina frowned, but with an amused smile on her lips. "Is that so?"

"Of course." He replied innocently. It hadn't been him alone, but Kozmotis had played a great part in the negotiations with the Egyptians.

"That's how the story ends?" Aemilia seemed rather unsatisfied her father's abrupt ending of his tale.

"Anticlimactic, I'll admit, but that's how it happened." Kozmotis explained, turning back to his daughter. "I just didn't want to bore you with the onslaught of politics, which ensued."

Shaking her head, Amina crossed the room, going past her husband to the night table. "Have you ever considered, reading her a story from this book?" She asked, picking up said object, waving it a little in front of his nose. Books were a rare and comparatively new medium, though pages were easier to flip then going to an equally long scroll.

"I was considering it as a backup." He admitted.

"Do stick to it next time, would you?"

His lips turned up in a warm smile. "Maybe you'd like to tell us a story." Kozmotis suggested, before he sat down next to his daughter, to her right, and together they looked expectantly at Amina, making her chuckle.

"Oh, you're so cute together." She purred almost mockingly. "Fine; then make yourselves comfortable." Amina opened the book, and sat down to the left of them, as Aemilia took her place on her father's lap, her back against his chest, as her mother began to read. "Once upon a time…"

…

Until deep into the night Amina had read, and Aemilia had fallen asleep at some point, leaning against her father. Very carefully he'd tucked her in, before he and his wife had snuck out. It felt like it had happened in another life entirely, and he closed the book again. From the men on the last supply ship, Kozmotis had heard that Lykos was starting a family of his own now. Would he tell his child one day the same stories, or maybe tales of the war against the Dream Pirates? He couldn't help but wonder how he himslef would be portrayed in them. A decade of war had shaped the island realm, lives had been lost, towns and hamlets destroyed. Would he be the High General who had defeated the shadows, or the one unwilling to act until his family had been taken from him?

Sighing heavily Kozmotis put the book and the drawings back into the shelves. He shouldn't be wasting his thought on such matters; they only troubled his haunted mind, and he needed to focus on his duty. It shouldn't concern him how he was perceived by future generations only that Atlantis had a future at all. Maybe some fresh air would do him some good.

Kozmotis took his scimitar, and stepped out into the afternoon sun. A few seabirds circled above his head, and down at the coast the waves were beating against the stones. A walked around the island, if he walked slowly, would keep him busy for about two hours. Two hours, in which the voices of Umbra would not reach him. Without this temporary means of escape, he wouldn't have made it this long, Kozmotis was sure. The Fearlings were not merely aggravating, but deeply unsettling. Their presence alone was enough to get to you, dragging your deepest fears from the darkest corners of your mind, until they rested right beneath the surface of your conscience. You could feel them, ready to take you over, but stepping out of that infernal prison, feeling the wind upon your face was almost cleansing, and with every step that took him further away from the grey door within the mountain, Kozmotis felt lighter, as if a great weight had been taken from him.

Three years were over, and there were maybe decades still to come.

* * *

More years went by, and Emily grew up to be a young woman. She had watched herself change in the only mirror in Typhan's possession, after she'd cleaned it from all the dust, and had to admit that she more and more resembled her mother, at least when it came to the facial features. Her hair was still black as night, and her eyes almost golden, and her face was maybe a bit longer than her mother's had been. All in all she seemed to have hit a balance between her father and mother, if she could still picture them correctly. It was almost fighting how much she'd forgotten; her family was still fairly clear in her memories, but all the others who had lived at the mansion. Had Thymos' rather distinctive scar been on the right or left side of his neck, where a house had bitten him once? Such details more and more slipped her mind; how much would she forget in the future?

Emily turned from the mirror and put her cloths on, most she had made herself out of robes Typhan had provided her with, in all shades of beige and white. She tied her long hair together, which was straight on top, yet getting wavy at the end. Somewhere behind the door she could hear the wizard search his way through the house with the help of a staff.

…

A few hours later they were outside again, the weather nice enough for late autumn, though the wind was keeping her hair in a horizontal position. Emily was sitting on the log of a tree that had fallen in a recent storm, a cube of clay in front of her on a tree stump. "_Crèadh atharraich_." She spoke with a hand reached out. Once she had needed both hands to guide whatever she was manipulating, but not nowadays her thought and one hand towards the object was all she required. The clay moved, rising, the lower half slimming, the upper getting broader. In less than five minutes the cube had turned into a goblet, ready to be burned.

Even though Typhan was blind, and had a white cloth tied around his head to hide his grey eyes, he could sense her actions, and nodded approvingly when she was done. With his fingers, he felt along the object, looking for bumps or cracks. He had told her that this exercise would help shape her own muscles during transformation, and during the past weeks she had turned this cube of clay into a vast variety of other, mostly household, objects.

"Good; I believe we can now continue with the next lesson." With that he took a small cage with a songbird in it, and placed it on the log. Emily had been wondering why he'd brought it along. "For the first time you will transform a living thing. Before you start worrying; I want you to merely change the color of its feathers had first. Later we will move up to size and only then species."

Emily nodded. "What color do you want it to have?"

"Is it brown now?" He asked.

"Yes."

Slowly he stroked his beard, before he answered. "Then why don't you turn it blue? Like the common kingfisher…and when I asked how you did, don't lie; I will know."

Emily smiled. "I wouldn't dream of it." As a matter of fact, the wizard was good in detecting lies just by the tone of her voice; apparently it went up. "Before we begin, may I take a little break, just so I can stretch my legs and freshen up?"

"Of course, Aemilia. I'll be waiting here."

"Thank you." She added an appreciative nod even though he couldn't see it, simply out of habit. Emily walked down to the beach, and took off her sandals, dipping her feet into the cool ocean water. The coolness rose up her legs, but it was refreshing rather than discomforting. For a while she simply stood there, eyes closed, listening to the waves and the seagulls. Soon her mind drifted off.

Somewhere far beyond the horizon was her home, and she couldn't help but wonder when or if she would ever see it again. Her father hadn't come for her, not in all these years, and though the chances had always been slim, he of all people should have found her by now. She had drifted with a small catamaran and found this island, while the High General Pitchiner with all his ships couldn't? No, it was very obvious to her now that he had abandoned her that she no longer played a role in his life. All these happy memories from their time together now only left a bitter taste. Well, he'd always been gone for long periods of time…maybe having her out of his life wasn't so much of a stretch for him after all.

Emily could feel the tears running down her cheeks; she had to admit that only a part of her could believe it. He had loved her, hadn't he? So many shared hours, so many laughs and embraces, gently kisses on her forehead when he'd tucked her in at night. "You promised me." She whispered accusingly into the wind, the tears still coming. "You promised you'd be back. You promised on your soul." Emily opened her now reddened eyes. "Why of all your promises, you had to break this one? Why didn't you come for me?" No one answered, but she wasn't surprised. In years her questions hadn't been answered; why should today have been any different?

She straightened herself, and wiped the tears away. Typhan shouldn't know she'd been crying again. While she appreciated his concern and his attempts to comfort her, she didn't want his pity. As she was about to turn around, something caught her eye. In that moment Emily had almost collapsed to her knees, when she saw a trireme sailing just around the treacherous currents. Had he finally come? Would she finally go home?

"_Gaoth, cluinn mo gairm_." And the wind carried the voices from the ship to her ears; intensely she listened to every word. With some disappointment she learned that they were only merchants on their way to Atlantis, and only because of the recent storm they'd come so far off course. Still they could get her off this island! Emily had to try and contact them, who knew when the next would show up, after all this was the first she saw since being washed up at this shore. She went further into the water. "_Teine deàrrs_."

A great green flame started burning in the palms of her hands, and she held them high, feeding more energy into the spell, so the fire could be seen even from the trireme. The wind still carried the words spoken onboard to her, and eagerly, anxious she waited for them to spot her, to turn around.

Not a single word indicated that she'd been seen, not even her flame reaching meters into the sky. Instead the trireme turned away, and grew smaller. "No!" No, they couldn't leave, she was right here! In her panic, in her frustration she screamed after them. "I'm here! Come back! Come…back." Defeated Emily lowered her arms, killing the fire, watching her one chance sail away.

No, she couldn't allow that. Why was she punished like that? Was this the Fates idea of humor? The next words, she screamed with all she had, with all defiance she had in herself. "_Doineann agus dealanach, faigh mo riaghladh_!" Her thoughts had turned violent, her feelings angry and hurt, and what she had summoned reflected its evocator.

The blue sky turned grey within seconds, the clouds thick and dark, looming now above the ocean, darkest over the trireme. Emily could no longer hear their voices, and no longer did she care, as she hid her face behind her hands, the tips of her fingers, clenching into her hair, as she let her pain crash upon her like a tidal wave. Lightning danced between the clouds, the thunder rolling ominously over the sea, and Emily didn't even notice how every hair on her body was standing up now. The clouds continued to grow, the wind picked up, fed by her rage and despair, supposed to carry the trireme to her.

Suddenly a single, tremendous lightning bolt cut through the sky downward, like a terrible, deadly tree of light. "NO!" Typhan grabbed her by the arms, turning her around, pulling her closer to him until they were face to face; he must have sensed her intensive usage of magic and come to check on her. "Stop this now!" There was panic, actual fright in his usually calm voice. The lightning struck, and briefly the ship disappeared in the intense light of the impact. Then thunder filled the air, booming in her ears, making both flinch.

She tore herself out of his grip, and looked upon what she'd done. Gods and goddesses…

There was no ship anymore, only a burning wreckage, carried by the stormy sea. What had she done?! Emily sank to her knees, not paying heed to the fact that she was still in the water herself, the waves now reaching up to her hip.

"Aemilia…what have you done?" Typhan's voice sounded as if it was coming from far away, as she stared at the flames in the distance in utter shock.

"I… I didn't mean to…I just…" She stammered, her own voice trembling almost as worse as her body. "I just wanted them to come back. I just wanted to go home."

He placed a hand on her left shoulder. "Aemilia; you have killed them…you've killed innocent sailors, for what?"

"I just wanted to go home." Emily simply repeated quietly, not having really grasped what he'd said. Her mind seemed to have frozen to a standstill, no other impressions of the outside world, except for the wreckage, could reach her now.

"Are you listening to me, girl?" Disbelieve and horror turned into anger. "How could you do this?" Typhan shook her roughly, bringing her out of her paralysis. "How? Why?"

Slowly she stood up, back still turned to him, eyes fixed on the same spot in the distance. "I thought I had no choice." Emily began. "I thought this would be my one way of this island, to finally go home, to find out what happened to my father…why he never came."

He held her shoulder tightly. "Listen to me, Aemilia; it is time you forget your father, so you can finally put your grief behind you. You will never find happiness in your life, if you hang on to such painful memories. Don't you think I have seen how they torture you?" Typhan told her, and Emily suddenly stiffened: how could she ever forget her parents, the two people she'd loved most in her life? "You must let go of your dreams, because there is not going to be a happy end, where you'll be reunited with him, and you can just pick up your life where you left off all those years ago. Focus on here and now, Aemilia, so you can have a future at all. I know it hurts, but here and now, **I **am here for you, and I will keep my promise, take care of you and teach you all I know."

Emily's mind and feelings were in turmoil, worse than the sea in front of her. "You think, you could replace him?" Angry tears streamed down her face, her hands clenched into fists, as she finally turned to him, and yelled with all she had. "YOU ARE NOT MY FATHER!"

Even the wind quieted down. Typhan looked at her shocked and hurt, as if she'd punched him and suddenly Emily regretted her words; he'd taken her in, comforted her in her pain and taught her so much throughout these years. She placed a hand on her mouth, but it was too late, she'd already said it.

It took him a while to find his voice, a tear running from his blind eyes under the cloth. "No, no you're right; I'm not. If you want it so much, you should go home, young one, just…go." His hand trembled as he raised it, his voice low, trying to cover his hurt. "_Atharraich air seabhag._"

Emily wanted to say she was sorry, but her words came out as a scream of pain. Every muscle cramped, her heart rate accelerated, blood pumping in her head, and every bone felt like it was breaking. She stared at her hands as feathers began to grow out of her skin, in light brown, gold and white, while her entire body shrank. Her cries turned animalistic, more bird than human soon, as she begged Typhan to stop, but her mouth couldn't form the proper words anymore, as it turned into a sharp beak. Her new wings clashed against the water surface, before they carried her up. She staggered, her flight anything but stabled, as she stared at her mentor in utter disbelieve. How could he do this to her? Without him she could never turn back!

"Whatever you're looking for, may you find it on another shore." Typhan spoke, the bitterness so heavy in his voice, the pain so plainly on his face. He waved his hand once, and a strong wind caught Emily beneath her wings, pushing her higher, pushing her away from the island.

…

Typhan couldn't see, but sensed her fading in the distance, carried away by the very storm she had created. All he'd done was giving her a little push. In this new form, Aemilia would be unable to cast any spell, and without controlling the elements, she would have to learn fast how to fly, or hope the storm would bring her to another island.

The old man lowered his head. It shouldn't have ended this way; she should have stayed and learn and overcome her grief eventually. Typhan realized that despite all he'd done, he'd not been able to ease her pain. She had only grown more introverted her thoughts always on the past. Could he have done more for her? It didn't matter anymore; she was gone and once more, he was alone.

It seemed cruel to have turned her into a hawk, knowing that she'd likely never be herself again, but perhaps, given time, she would forget she was human, perhaps she would finally forget her parents and her pain. Typhan sighted heavily; he was trying to justify his actions to himself. He had acted rashly, driven by his hurt, but now it couldn't be undone.

The waves continued to wash around his legs, his robe growing heavier from the absorb water, still he did not move, his blind eyes fixed at the raging sky. For a long time his thoughts about Aemilia and what had happened that day would plague the old hermit, even after she was long gone and his mind could not quite remember the sound of her voice.

* * *

Ombric looked up from his scroll, and out the window to his left. The sun was hiding behind grey clouds, though it wasn't raining yet, yellow and red leaves flying by. His gaze wandered downhill to the city, the white Atlantis, with its palace-like buildings and broad, tree-lined streets. Peace was becoming the realm; trade was flourishing once more, and the people returned to the islands, once devastated by the Fearlings, and rebuild. Everyone felt safer, now that the Dream Pirates were locked up, and the hero of that war, Lord Pitchiner himself stood watch over their prison. Especially the general public had the outmost trust into their former High General, and honored his noble sacrifice, giving his life for their protection.

While Ombric knew that his friend was certainly an honorable man, and the Archmage would be the first to step up to his defense against whoever said otherwise, he feared for him. Shalazar had not spoken in the council meeting, which had granted Kozmotis' request; at that point he'd already tried all he could to stop him, but Kozmotis was a stubborn man as well. Time would show who of them had been right, and Ombric prayed to all the divines he was wrong, and his friend had made the right decision. So far it seemed that way.

Every month Ombric would be the first to welcome back the supply ship, questioning captain and sage about Pitchiner's condition. And for years they'd told him he was fine, tired maybe, a little paler, but unchanged by the Fearlings haunting presence; some even claimed he was doing better. Whenever the supply ship came, it would stay for a night at Umbra, on which the former High General would join them for the evening, sharing their meal, take part in their conversation, even share a laugh now and then. Somehow he appeared to be, not happy but…contented. Such news greatly eased the sage's mind, though they would never erase all his worries.

The first drops of rain hit the window, before running down along the glass. Ombric was considering leaving Atlantis for a while, to travel beyond the borders of the realm to the continent. This library was full of scrolls, tablets, artifact and books from all over the world, and yet the wizard yearned to see it all for himself, not just in words and pictures, but with his own eyes. Who of the guild members had ever seen the wonders described within those texts, or the people who had writing them down? Ombric looked around in the great hall, to the massive shelves, each containing over a thousand scriptures, magic flames casting a soft light upon them; real fire was considered far too dangerous and was therefore banned from this building. So much time spent here, so much read, and all of the sudden it seemed unsatisfactory.

Very slowly and careful not to harm the old papyrus, Ombric rolled up the Egyptian scroll, its contents dedicated to Thoth, god of knowledge and wisdom, associated with the arts of magic, writing and the development of science among others. The Archmage was rather fond of him. Atlantians themselves did not have a set pantheon of gods, as their ancestors came from different cultural backgrounds and religions. Instead, the temple and the priesthood were dedicated to any divine being, be it Isis or Demeter or any other deity. Atlantians had come to believe that gods ruled over certain parts of the world, much like mortal rulers did, a reason why they mirrored the culture of their worshipers. You had Ra or Zeus at the top, the other gods acting as sort of staff or ministers, which was why each had his or her own field of expertise.

To avoid religious conflict, which would have certainly destroyed the young realm, the first Atlantians had simply called their realm a religiously neutral one, so everyone had been able to follow their own traditions and rites, as long as they didn't harm another's, and didn't break universal laws that had been stripped of any religious content. Most were fairly natural, like do not kill or steal, others had to be worked out, like the rights of women; in the end the more liberal approach of Egyptians had prevailed, and today woman enjoyed almost the same rights as men. Over generations, the religions had mixed together, which was why Atlantians tend not to refer to a single god or goddess, but use the general term divines. If you wanted a certain god's favor or blessing, you prayed to him, made an offering, and even if you didn't know what the god demanded as a sacrifice, the priests would be happy to assist you in your beseechment; on the other hand most houses, like the Constellations, had their own rituals and preferred certain deities. Ombric Shalazar himself favored deities associated with knowledge, though admittedly he found Athena questionable, considering the tale about her turning the poor priestess Medusa into a monster because Poseidon had raped her, and therefore broken the girl's vow of chastity, in the goddess' own temple.

Ombric returned the scroll to its place in the shelf, and got on his way back to his personal chambers. He would require time to plan and prepare his travels, set up a route, and find a ship that would bring him at least to the continent, preferably a vivid harbor. There was so much to consider; he would have to wait at least until winter was over, the storms making travel especially dangerous that time of year, and it was already autumn. Briefly Ombric mused if he was not leaving for exploratory reasons only, but to get away from something. Avowedly, he felt restless since the end of the war; he and his fellow sages had spent a decade coming up with new means to defeat the shadows, had imbued thousands of weapons with their blood to enchant them, gone into battle at times, even if he and Trismegistus hadn't been at the Erebus, still too weakened by the enchantment of the obsidian. Now however, everyone had returned to their peaceful studies, to the way it'd been before the war. Perhaps it was but the paranoia of an old man, yet Ombric had the feeling it wasn't over, not completely. After all there was the possibility there were Fearlings still out there, even on the continent. Who was to say they had all been in the Erebus the day, when Kozmotis had entrapped thousands. Could they even be gathering strength somewhere else?

Atlantis was safe for the time being, but Ombric needed to ensure himself that it would stay that way, and that no others suffered their wrath.

* * *

Very slowly, still very sleepily, Kozmotis opened his eyes, blinking at the soft light shining through the curtains. Amina smiled gently at him, framing his face with a hand. "Morning." She whispered, her wavy brown hair falling over the blanket and her bare back.

He smiled back, placing a hand on hers. "Morning, love."

She snuggled closer against him, against his chest, her head just underneath his chin, and he put his arm around her, as Amina did she same. "Hope I didn't wake you."

Kozmotis stroke endearingly over her shoulder, wiping away some of her hair. "You haven't; and even if, I wouldn't mind." Gently he kissed her. Somehow it felt like it had been an eternity since last he'd seen her. Had he been out on sea all that long?

"I'm so glad you here." Amina told him, once their lips had separated again.

"And I'm glad to be back."

Her fingers stroke his jaw, her touch soft and comforting. "You know, I have something for you, a gift just for this occasion."

"You didn't need to." Kozmotis told her kindly; if anything he wanted to do something for her, not the other way around. After all it was he, who constantly left her alone, here in their home.

She chuckled amused. "Can't I please my husband with a little something just because I want to?"

He smiled, remembering having said the exact same thing to her once; minus the husband of course. "Touché."

"If you want to see it, it's just behind that door over there." Amina told him, looking over his shoulder.

He turned his head. Had there always been a pentagram on that door? Had there ever **been** a second door in their bedchamber? He must have been gone longer than he thought. "Will you tell me what it is?" Kozmotis asked her, turning back.

"And ruin the surprise?" His wife asked in return. "Not on your life."

He pulled her closer to himself. "Then let us stay in bed a while longer. I'm certainly in no hurry to leave your side."

"Are you sure you don't want to open your present first?" Amina asked hopefully. "I have put so much thought into it."

For the first time Kozmotis frowned. "Usually you're the one insisting not to get up; you hate getting up early."

She shrugged. "I'm just excited."

Odd, Amina was always quite calm and patient compared to him. "I tend to be the one being overly excited about anything; if you take this from me, I don't know what I bring to this relationship." He joked.

"It's just a door, Kozmotis."

He froze. Amina never called him Kozmotis, unless she was angry she always called him Kozmo. Suddenly he had the feeling something was terribly wrong, and it dawned on him. "You're not here are you?" He asked, sadness in his voice and eyes as he looked at her, running his fingers over her cheek. She only smiled back at him, giving him no answer. "This is all a dream." Kozmotis concluded, a thumb touching her lips. "I've carried you out of the water, I held you in my arms…I saw you burn." He almost choked at the last words. Her skin became cool beneath his touch, and suddenly her hair was wet, clinging to her face, just like on the day she'd jumped into the bay. Ash fell from the ceiling like grey and black snow.

Then he heard the hissing, and the scene before him faded into darkness; he could almost feel the preying white eyes upon him, as his ears picked up the cold, sadistic chuckles that were all too familiar.

…

Kozmotis eyes opened, this time in the guardhouse, and he knew this was real. The anger boiled up in him, burning in every fiber of his body. He practically leaped out of his bed, taking the scythe, leaning against the wall, before storming out the bedchamber, into the main-room. It was winter and the fire had gotten out some time ago, the air freezing cold, but despite that he stood in front of the prison door, with no shirt, no shoes, only his pants. Every muscle of his body was tense, the knuckles of the hand holding the scythe white, the blade inches above the ground, the shaft going aslant across his back.

"You will stay out of my head!" Kozmotis snarled, his breathing heavily. He heard laughter from behind the door, and he slammed his free fist against the stone door, ignoring the pain from the impact. "You've killed her, I will not let you defile her memory as well, or I'll forget myself and have the sages end your existence once and for all!" The Dream Pirates couldn't know that he was lying, especially when he was holding a weapon they knew for a fact could extinguished them.

There was some hissing, but no reply, and it was quiet once more. Slowly Kozmotis' breathing calmed down, and he returned the scythe to its place at the wall, holding his hurting hand close to his body. Only now he noticed how cool it was this morning, and he started to shiver, every hair on his body standing up in a futile effort to keep him warm. He returned to his bedchamber and put his clothes on; thick dark leather boots with soft fur inside, a long shirt and a thick brown, leather cloak. The gloves were comparatively thin, but kept his fingers warm enough, as he got the fire started a minute later.

Once the fire burned lively, his gaze returned to the prison door. It was quiet now, but often enough during these past years, the Dream Pirates had begged him to open the door, begged for a breeze of fresh air Kozmotis knew they didn't need. He'd gotten used to their whining, ignoring it most of the time, but that they got into his head, and twisted his dreams…no, he would not let them get to him.

He would keep his promise.

* * *

The wind was strong, tearing at her new form, throwing her around in the air. Emily had no idea about flying, and she fought for control, trying to find out how she needed to keep her wings in order to actually have some influence to where she was going. She already knew she was losing this battle, and after hours she just let herself be carried by the wind. Had Typhan summoned it? Lightning struck far too close for comfort once again; it seemed either Thor or Zeus really hated her.

To her own surprise, Emily didn't really care where the storm would bring her. Even if she ended up on Atlantis, she would remain a hawk, unable to communicate with anyone, and her father…even if he was still alive, it was clear to her that he no longer cared. He'd broken his promise, he'd never come for her. And damn Typhan for doing this to her; couldn't she trust anyone?

How long she was trapped in that storm she didn't know, though it certainly felt like days had passed, until finally the wind lost strength. She lost altitude, and needed to flap her wings to keep herself flying, her new bird-muscles hurting like they were on fire and ready to snap apart. But beneath her wings, there was land. It was so much actually that she couldn't see the end of it, and for a moment Emily thought she was back on Atlantis.

But it couldn't be. Atlantis was a green island, with meadows, fields and forests, its towns and hamlets shining white, this land however was much drier, the grass yellow, and hardly any trees were around. Was this the mainland? As a child, Emily had wanted to see it, but not like this, not as a hawk, but together with her father, joining him on his travels to see all the places he'd told her about. She set those thoughts aside; she was tired, no exhausted, and needed to land, take a break. After that she could worry about food and water.

Soon Emily found an olive tree, with still plenty of leaves on it, and landed on an accessible branch. It took her a while to figure out how to angle her wings for the landing maneuver, but that got sorted out, and keeping herself close to the trunk, Emily quickly drifted into sleep.

…

She slept for a day straight, and awoke thirsty as well as hungry. Water was easy enough, after she'd found a river flowing into the ocean a short distance down the coast, but food... It wasn't the hunting that bothered her, but the eating of raw flesh or fish. She had the stomach to handle such food now, her mind however was still unwilling. Maybe, given time, she would forget that she was actually human and no longer care. Until then Emily needed to pull herself together, and do what she had to do.

Her first try was with a rabbit, but the small mammal was fast, and her claws only hit the ground. So many times she'd watched hawks hunt, how they dove from the sky upon their prey. Doing it herself was a different story, but at least it taught her how to fly. After an unsuccessful day of hunting, Emily came across a small village.

She landed on a roof and watched the people. Intensely Emily listened to their conversation, to figure out what language they spoke. It wasn't a language she spoke herself, but could identify; she was on the Iberian Peninsula, no doubt. What she also found was a fisher, who'd just returned from a hard day's work, with a net full of fish. As soon as the man had opened it, Emily flew down, grabbed a fish with her claws, just in front of the confused man's face and returned to her roof. Raw or not, the fish suddenly tasted better than anything else she'd ever eaten in her entire life.

Emily stayed for a few days, until her strength had returned. She had decided to head east, as she spoke and understood much of the Greek language. Even if she couldn't communicate, it would be nice to just listen and understand a conversation again. It wasn't much of a plan, but better than remaining in this small village. And trying to reach Atlantis from here, during the winter storms would have been suicidal anyway.

One morning Emily spread her white-golden wings, and flew off into the sun.

* * *

Chrysos sat down on a convenient rock, and took a sip of water. Today he was travelling alone, south of the great mountains, in a large forest, though still plenty of light reached the ground. Spring was once more coming, and fresh leaves grew on the trees, little flowers emerged here and there, while the birds sung brightly in the treetops above him. Chrysos had spent the winter in a town not far away, helping wherever a hand was needed to pay for accommodation and food. A nice family had offered him a bed, and while he'd greatly enjoyed living there, it was good to be back on the road.

For some time he just sat there, drank and ate a little of the bread he had with him, when he heard footsteps on the path he'd come. Chrysos turned his head to see a man, dressed like a hunter, a bow across his back, and a quiver at his side. "What's a boy doing here all alone?" He asked. Thankfully he spoke in a dialect the young priest understood.

Quickly Chrysos began to write on his tablet.

"Mute, eh? And from your cloth I'd say you're doing rather well. Why don't you spare a coin or two for a poor hunter?"

Chrysos stopped writing and frowned.

"Or maybe my friend can persuade ya."Chrysos froze when he felt a blade at his throat. A man had appeared out of nowhere behind him, smelling strongly like leather, fur and blood. "Nothing personal, but the winter has been tough on some of us." The hunter explained. "I'm just gonna help myself. Stay still and my friend won't need to do anything nasty we'd all regret."

The man took Chrysos' bag, who didn't dare to move. A few coins weren't worth his life. Of course this had to happen the one time he was alone. Oh fates, thy have a cruel sense of humor, he thought bitterly. Suddenly, while the hunter was still going through his things, there was a loud screech, and something light-brown shot past Chrysos' head. The blade was removed, and the man screamed in pain. Both Chrysos and the hunter looked at him, to see that a hawk was trying to peck his eyes out with claws and beak, its wings beating his head. The man swung his knife but missed and he started running away, blood streaming down his face.

Swiftly the hawk turned around, going straight for the hunter, who drew his own bronze dagger. Unfortunately he'd forgotten about Chrysos, who had his own blade. The young priest stabbed him in the foot, allowing the hawk to reach its target unharmed, as the hunter cried out in pain. He blindly hacked for the animal, but he too couldn't hit it, and as fast as his injured foot allowed, he retreated back the way he'd come.

Baffled, Chrysos watched the hawk, which now landed on a nearby branch, and started to wash its feathers. It was a beautiful bird, the feathers light brown, almost shimmering golden in the sunlight, the chest and insides of the wings however flawless white. The feathers on the back of its head were a bit longer, standing up a little, while the golden eyes regarded him attentive and intelligently. There was something really odd about this bird, and Chrysos bowed to convey his gratitude. Was the hawk not a sacred bird? Had the gods maybe sent it to save him?

He took his tablet, and wrote something on it in his native tongue. _Whatever happens, don't be alarmed._ It tilted its head, but Chrysos hadn't expected an answer. He closed his eyes and focused. Very carefully he stepped into its mind, and he heard it screech anew, this time surprised, maybe a little frightened. What he found out the moment he touched its mind was remarkable. "_Don't be afraid_." He told it. "_But this is the only way I can talk, and understand you_."

"_You're in my head_." She complained loudly.

He needed to calm her down, or she'd kick him out again; she had a very strong will, and magic ran in her veins. "_Yes, and I'm sorry, but I'm not reading your mind or anything. I can only sense your conscious thoughts, and hear them as spoken words._"

"_You're a wizard_." It was hard to tell whether she said this accusingly or relieved, certainly excited.

"_No, but a priest of the Oneiroi with a gift." _Chrysos explained, hoping she was familiar with his gods.

He could feel her frown. "_And you can just enter people's minds_?"

_"Oh, I can do more. For example;" _A kind smile spread across his face_. "You're not a hawk at all."_

* * *

**Characters from the original books: **Kozmotis Pitchiner, Lady (Amina) Pitchiner, Emily Jane Pitchiner, Ombric Shalazar, Tsar & Tsarina Lunar, Tsar (Badr) Lunar/MiM, Sandman (Chrysos), Nightlight (Zopyros), Typhan, Dream Pirates/Fearlings/Nightmare Men

**Atlantian Culture/Religion: **I really didn't want to pick an ancient culture and simply make that to the ancestors of the advanced Atlantians, so I took something from several better known cultures; names inspired by Greeks, the system with two kings and a council inspired by the Roman Republic, architecture from both, the temple reminiscent of the Achaemenid Empire's architecture, and now a little Egyptian influence("author's note" below).

Given all I have read about history, I have gained the impression that back in the day, in ancient times, there wasn't the mentality: "I believe my god/gods exist therefore yours can't", and empires, like the Roman or the Achaemenid allowed even those they had conquered to further practice their religion, to varying degrees admittedly, and in the case of the Romans, some gods were simply added to their pantheon. Same happened on the Indian subcontinent; deities were assimilated, so one god would have different names and appearances but still be regarded as the same god, or they sometimes kept just adding to the list.

So, given that Atlantis was founded by members of several cultures with polytheistic religions, it made only sense traditions and believes would mix throughout centuries.

**Ancient Egypt and women's rights: **The ancient Egyptians viewed men and women, regardless of social classes, except for slaves (who could still buy and sell thing, and work their way to freedom), as essentially equal under the law. Both men and women had the right to own and sell property, make contracts, marry and divorce, receive inheritance, and pursue legal disputes in court. Married couples could own property jointly and protect themselves from divorce by agreeing to marriage contracts, which conditioned financial obligations of the husband to his wife and children in such a case. So compared with their contemporaries in ancient Greece, later Rome, and even more modern places around the world today, ancient Egyptian women had a greater range of personal choices, rights and opportunities. There were even a few female pharaohs, like Hatshepsut or Cleopatra.

**Typhan:** In the books, Typhan is described as a Constellation, who had control of many elements, caused storms on the stellar seas and was broken old man as well. In the context of this story it only made sense that he would be a wizard with such skills, and I gave him that grudge against the guild to give more reason why he's broken and yet willing to teach Emily.

**Typhan changing Emily:** In the books she stays with him for years, before he sealed her inside a shooting star; the latter obviously didn't work here, because it would have been difficult for her to meet Sandy in such a shape. Therefor I went with a hawk, since I needed to get her to Sandy, who is somewhere in the future Northern-Italy and these to Atlantians important animals have already been mentioned a few times throughout the story.

**Spells:**

_Crèadh atharraich: _crèadh=clay, atharraich=change

_Gaoth, cluinn mo gairm: _gaoth=wind/air, cluinn=listen to, hear, mo=my, gairm=call/shout

_Teine deàrrs:_ teine=fire, deàrrs=to shine/beam/gleam

_Doineann agus dealanach, faigh mo riaghladh: _doineann=storm, agus=and, dealanach=lightning,faigh=accept, riaghladh=control/guidance/rule/reign

_Atharraich air seabhag_: atharraich=change, air=in/to/with, seabhag=hawk


End file.
